


Adronitis

by Ausp_ice



Series: So You Made A Deal [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Asexual Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Comfort, Crying, Digital Art, Fae Nines, Falling In Love, Genderfluid Nines, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Other, Possessive Behavior, Rape Recovery, Selectively Mute Connor, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ausp_ice/pseuds/Ausp_ice
Summary: adronitis, n.frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone—spending the first few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different anteroom, each a little closer to the center of the house—wishing instead that you could start there and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets first, before easing into casualness, until you’ve built up enough mystery over the years to ask them where they’re from, and what they do for a living.Nines stays.Connor recovers. Slowly.
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: So You Made A Deal [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798897
Comments: 85
Kudos: 98





	1. Safety

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings!  
> Welcome to Part 3. I think of it as the part during which they finally figure things out :'>
> 
> As always, my thanks to [Ronnie Silverlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake) for betaing, discussing, and being wonderful company :'D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2148

Connor wakes slowly, blinking up at the ceiling. He's so tired. Why is he so tired? His body aches. His neck? He lifts a hand to brush against it, only to meet the texture of… bandages…? 

_Look into my eyes, will you?_

He jerks up, slapping a hand over his mouth as a sudden, intense nausea rolls through him. He feels a cool touch at his shoulders, and he doesn't even realize he's reacted until he's shoved whoever it was away, pushing himself against the wall, arms lifted to shield himself. 

"—nor. Connor, can you hear me?"

His own voice? No. That doesn't seem right. 

"Connor," the voice quivers with… something. "It's me. Nines."

Nines? Nines… He opens his mouth to say something, and—nothing comes out. Nothing but his desperate gasps, and he stifles them by pressing his hands to his face. More tears spill out of his eyes—tears of frustration, now, too. They seep through his fingers as he presses harder, digging deeper.

"Did she… curse your voice? You were talking last night…"

Connor shakes his head. 

"I…" A soft sigh. "I healed you to the best of my available abilities, since you did not wish to go to the hospital. But I fear now it may not have been enough."

Connor shakes his head again. He grits his teeth, breathing harshly, and then: "C-c…" Can't. He can't even say it. He starts signing with shaking fingers— _my fault I can't it's just me—_ before freezing. Does Nines even know sign language? 

He forces himself to uncurl slightly, taking in his surroundings. Nines is sitting on his bed, near the foot of it, looking like him, looking human. He's wearing his black turtleneck, and he's clutching the sheets hard enough to bunch them together. The diffuse morning light is streaming through the windows, lighting up half of his face, the usual blankness replaced by furrowed brows and a severe frown. 

"Forgive me," Nines says. "I don't understand."

As he thought. But before he can curl into himself again, resigning himself to the barrier of communication between them, Nines offers a hand. "Will you allow me to see your thoughts? Will you… allow me to touch you, Connor?" 

Right now, Connor wouldn't refuse him anything. Not with the guilt gnawing at him, not after Nines saved him, not after everything. He reaches out slowly, hand trembling, and slides his hand into Nines's cool grasp. 

Nines's eyes fall shut, and Connor feels… _something._ It's a sensation unlike anything he's ever felt, like cool water spilling across his mind, seeping into the gaps. 

And then the fae stiffens, eyes snapping open to look at Connor with something akin to dread. Connor thinks he can feel the echo of it, somehow. 

"You… thought I was mad?"

Maybe. He'd left. Maybe Nines was coming by to remind him, before. He'd hoped… he's not sure what he'd hoped. But whatever it was. Whatever he thought. It was… too presumptuous. Nines left. He must've done something wrong.

"No," Nines hisses. "No. How could you think anything so _foolish—"_ He must've seen something in Connor's mind, because he flinches. "No," his voice is subdued. "That is not… I… you…" Despite the lack of expressiveness, Connor can nearly _feel_ the palpable horror and regret and churning guilt in Nines's mind. "My fault…?"

Connor shakes his head forcefully. He was just unlucky. Just unlucky. It was Connor's decisions that landed him in the situation, anyways. He was just—it's because of how he is. Anyone else probably would've been fine. Having a kid normally, or at least something that doesn't involve lack of consent. Maybe this is karma, for thinking he could get away with— 

"Please don't think that. You didn't deserve this." Nines covers his eyes with his free hand. "No matter what. You didn't deserve this." He puts his hand down, gaze falling to the bedsheets. "I was _not_ mad at you. I simply… I was feeling things I didn't understand, couldn't comprehend. I'd never felt anything like it. And then, I—I acted rashly. More time passed here than I expected… I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." He squeezes his eyes shut, hand lifting to clutch at his chest. "It physically pains me. I still don't understand it, but—but I just know. I know that I should not have left." 

Connor squeezes Nines's hand, and the fae opens his eyes to look at him. _It's not your fault,_ he tries to think towards Nines. It seems to work, since something flits across the fae's face. _I don't… I don't know what I'm feeling, either. But I… can you… just… I want…_

He remembers the feeling of sudden safety, when he was ensconced in Nines's wings. The quiet separation from everything. Just him and Nines… 

Nines's eyes flutter shut, and he nods. Carefully, he draws Connor closer. Watching him for any reaction, any fear. But now that Connor's awake, aware, he knows—Nines is safe. He can trust him. 

"You are too kind," he hears, a broken whisper, as Nines pulls him back to his chest, seating Connor in his lap. Connor's right hand is linked with Nines's left across his abdomen, and Nines's other arm is gently laid over his chest. The touch is featherlight, hesitant. Connor feels— _something,_ then. A shift. Nines's hands fade to gray skin, and the black nails sharpen into dangerous claws. Then—the wings. Blue framed by black. Blooming, curling around him. 

In another moment, he is completely enclosed. The blue parts of the wings seem almost translucent—they glow, softly, but the morning light filters through them as if they were frosted glass. 

He wonders if they're safe to touch. Or if they're as fragile as butterfly wings… 

Nines's hand squeezes his, just slightly. "You can touch them." His murmur seems loud, almost, in their isolated cocoon. "They are not so fragile."

So Connor extricates a hand and carefully brushes his fingers against one of the translucent sections of Nines's wings. The fae noticeably shivers at the touch, and Connor immediately draws his hand away—fingertips dusted in glittering, silvery-blue. 

"It's alright," Nines murmurs. "No one has touched my wings since I was… very young. I am… unaccustomed to it."

Oh. Is it a fae thing? Touching wings.

"It is often only allowed between family and… close, trusted individuals."

Connor stills. This means something. It means something, but he doesn't know what. How much. 

"Th-thank you." For letting Connor touch them. And for a whole lot more, really. 

Nines starts slightly at his voice, wings shifting slightly before relaxing back. "It is no problem at all." He hums softly, and then asks, "Are you able to speak now?"

"Looks like it," Connor answers, quiet. "Sorry. I'm… selectively mute. Sometimes, I just… can't." When he doesn't feel… comfortable, or safe, or something. 

"I see… May I?" He's not sure what Nines is asking for, but he agrees easily—and then there's another strange feeling in his mind, like an ocean wave striking him—like he's kept in place only by Nines's hold. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back to lay on Nines's chest, breathing deeply as he rides out the feeling. It's not bad—just strange. 

It fades, and he feels Nines tap his shoulder. Connor blinks, opening his eyes, only for his gaze to be drawn by Nines moving one hand away. _Like this?_ The fae signs, one handed. 

Connor blinks. "Did you just download ASL from my brain?" 

"Something like that," Nines answers, the puff of a silent laugh teasing at Connor's hair. "Helpful for learning languages of the humans that I meet." 

"I wish I could do that," Connor grumbles. 

"I could implant experiences within your mind, but it can be jarring. Overwhelming. I advise against it, at least to that degree."

"... Oh. Neat." Connor looks down to his hand, noticing the dust still on his fingers. He lifts his hand up, suddenly having a large temptation to lick them. 

Nines's hand lightly grabs his. "I wouldn't recommend that. You may start seeing and feeling things that aren't there. In this plane, at least." 

"Oh." 

Nines gently thumbs away the faery dust, until Connor's fingers are more or less clean. Connor closes his eyes and lays his head against the fae, giving a quiet hum. They stay like that, breathing, in, and out. Nines's breath aligning with his. Maybe his heartbeat, too. Do fae have hearts?

"Not quite like humans, but yes."

Interesting… 

Connor's phone rings, and he startles—eyes snapping open, jerking in Nines's hold. Nines's wings unfurl from around them, and Connor's heart leaps into his throat— 

"Shh. It's okay," Nines draws his wings back slightly, even as he scoots them over to the bedside table. "You're alright." He reaches over to grab the phone as Connor squeezes the fae's hand tightly. "It is your father. Would you like to pick up?" 

His dad? Why is he calling? There's… there's no way for him to know, right? 

"There is nothing to suggest your… involvement." 

Okay. Okay. Connor holds his hand out for his phone, and Nines slides it into his grasp. He taps _Accept_ and holds the phone to his ear. 

Hello, he means to say, but—nothing. 

_"Connor?"_

It's just his dad, he barely ever has a problem talking to his _dad_ and they're not even in person, it's just over the phone— 

_"Con? You there?"_

Yes. Yes, he's right here, he just can't _say it—_

Nines's wings wrap around them again. _Will this help?_ He hears in his mind. 

_"Hey. It's alright if you… just give me two taps if you want me to go."_

"N-no," he says, successfully. Looks like it does help. "I just needed a moment."

_"Alright. Alright. You okay?"_

No. "I'll… be okay."

_"Wanna talk about it?"_

Connor squeezes the phone tightly. "N-no. No. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

There's a pause on the other end. And then a sigh, made static by the speaker. _"I'm here if you need me. You know that, right?"_

"I know."

_"Okay. Well. I just… well, I guess I'm technically not supposed to tell you, but it'll be all over the news soon anyways…"_

Connor hums. "A case?"

 _"Remember that serial killer case I kept complaining to you about?"_ At Connor's hum of confirmation, Dad gives a heavy sigh. _"I think we got our killer."_

Something niggles at the edge of Connor's mind. "... Oh?"

_"Early this morning, or last night, or whatever… we found a body. Torn to pieces. Right in front of the station."_

Connor squeezes Nines's hand. "Huh."

_"Magic forensics was on it immediately, of course. It had the magic of a Greater Fae all over it, so it's being closed as a case of higher retribution."_

Connor turns his head slightly to meet Nines's eyes. They're carefully blank. "Higher retribution."

_"Yeah. Looks like she pissed off a higher being and paid the price. Not much we can do about it—I guess it's some twisted kinda justice. God, the state she was in… but after what she did, I don't know if I can say she didn't deserve it. Oh, uh—forensics matched her with the evidence at the sites of the murders. They're almost sure it's her."_

"I see." Connor looks back down to his hands. "It's good that she won't have any more victims."

 _"Yeah. I'm… grateful for that, at least."_ Another sigh. _"Gonna be caught up in a lot of paperwork, probably. If you wanna come over today, I won't be doing much more than staring at a screen."_

Come over… 

Leave? 

No. No… 

He clings tightly to Nines. Leaving is… no, he doesn't want to… 

_"Connor?"_

"Perhaps another day," his own voice answers, and he starts. But no—it's Nines. It's just Nines.

_"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. Take care, then?"_

Nines tilts his head at him, questioning. Connor takes a breath, gathering himself. "Thanks, Dad," he says, quietly. "Love you."

A cough on the other end. _"Y-yeah. Love ya too, kid."_ A quiet click, and the call ends. Nines takes the device out of Connor's hand, sliding it back to the bedside table. 

"So," Connor starts, "That was you, right?" The one who delivered the body to the precinct.

"Yes." No hesitation. Nines squeezes him just a bit tighter. "She deserved to suffer," he whispers in Connor's ear. "She deserved to be torn apart, to have her soul obliterated into nothingness."

Connor shivers, and yet—the words, though threatening, don't feel so at all. He only feels… safer. Knowing that Nines did this. Nines is doing so much for him. He's done so little in return.

"Why," he asks.

"I don't know," Nines answers. "I have always acted as I deemed fit. And this… it feels… right." 

Connor closes his eyes. "Okay. Can we… just stay like this?" 

"Yes. Of course." 

"Thank you," he murmurs, voice wavering. "Thank you for everything."

Nines only squeezes him more tightly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art can be found here: [dA](https://sta.sh/028irpzwwpgv) | [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/624833675617566720/art-for-the-first-chapter-of-adronitis-the-third) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice/status/1287873969429782530?s=20)


	2. Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2156

He falls asleep again, at some point. When he wakes up, he is lying down. There's a hold on him, wrapping him from behind, and he jerks in—fear-confusion- _let me go—_ but as soon as he registers the black nails, the slightly cool touch, the familiar scent of pine and snow, the wings curled around him—he grabs the hand that tries to pull away. 

"Connor?" 

Please don't go.

"I won't. I'll be right here." And the weight presses against him again, arms curling around his chest. 

He takes stock. He's still tired, lethargic. His neck doesn't ache as badly—it seems to have healed considerably as he slept. What time is it? 

"2:38 PM, according to your clock."

That's nice to know. 

"You should eat something. You have not consumed anything since… last night."

The thought of food causes a strange discomfort to churn within him. "N-... not. Not hungry."

Nines's grip tenses. "You require sustenance."

Connor shakes his head. He doesn't think he can stomach anything right now. 

_"Connor."_ More insistent. "Please do not neglect your health. You are… so fragile." Nines's breath puffs against his neck. "I… I do not wish for you to be harmed by your own inaction."

Connor shivers at the closeness. Not in a bad way. "Okay," he acquiesces. "Okay. I'll… try, at least."

"Good," Nines breathes, and then starts to pull away. Connor reacts before he can think about it—grasping Nines's wrist in a vice grip, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Nines lowers himself back down on an elbow, turning his hand to lightly grab Connor's wrist. "Connor. I'll be just outside, alright? I will prepare something for you, while you can take care of your hygienic needs."

That's… reasonable. It's very reasonable. Connor lets go, and Nines straightens. The fae watches him for a moment. His wings quiver slightly, before they fall to his back like a cape, and he turns to leave. 

Connor watches him go—watches him open the door, glance back, and walk through—only for his antlers to knock against the top of the door frame. 

Neither of them move for a moment. And then Connor coughs, "Are—are you okay?" He's trying very hard not to laugh. 

"I am fine," Nines mutters, rubbing the base of his antlers. "I suppose I should restrain my form here…" 

"You don't have to if you don't want to—aren't you more comfortable like this?"

"Hmm. So I am." Nines frowns slightly. "I will shorten them, at least," and the elegant curves shrink, going from three prongs to two on each side and curling much more closely to the fae's head. 

They are… so small. Connor really wants to touch them. He wonders what they feel like. 

… He wonders what it would feel like for Nines. 

Connor brushes the thought aside as Nines exits through the door, leaving it slightly ajar. After a moment of listening to the fae's soft footfalls, Connor sits up, pulling his legs off to the side of the bed. 

He lifts his hands. He's… he's alive. He's safe. He's home, Nines is here, Nines saved him. Nines is _here._

Connor closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. And then another. After a third, he stands, wobbling slightly at the vertigo. He wonders how much blood he lost when he was… 

He shudders, a hand over his mouth, a quiet whimper escaping him. Not a moment later, "Connor?" And he looks up to see the fae suddenly in front of him, hand hovering over his arm. "Do you wish for me to assist you?"

He reaches up to grab Nines's hand. "I… just need a minute, it's okay…"

Nines's fingers curl around his. "Alright."

Connor lets go after a minute, and Nines steps back, watching him. "I'll be okay," Connor murmurs. 

"Alright." Nines steps further away, and Connor makes his way to the bathroom. 

When he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees… exhaustion. The faint shadows under his eyes. His paler-than-usual face, deficient of his natural flush. Deficient of blood. The bandages carefully wrapped around his neck, where he's sure the slightly aching bite is still visible. 

But at least he's… clean. And there aren't any bruises he sees when he lifts his shirt. There aren't any marks… lower, either, and he's grateful. 

How close did he come to death last night? He couldn't really tell, with everything. So much. There was so much. 

Connor pulls in a breath, gripping the counter. _Stop thinking about it._

He goes through the motions of his morning routine—even though it's afternoon already. He leaves the bathroom, freshened up, and pads over to the main room. Nines is staring at his cabinets, but turns to look at Connor when he enters. "I was uncertain regarding what I could prepare, and how. I am not very familiar with human food."

Connor blinks. _That's okay,_ he signs. _I'll just have something simple._ Not like he'd be able to stomach anything substantial. 

A slight frown, and a nod from Nines. 

He settles for a bowl of oatmeal—plain oats with almond milk poured over them. Like cereal. Nines watches him as he grabs his bowl and sits at the table, taking another second to walk over and seat himself across from Connor. 

Connor uses his spoon to swirl the contents of his bowl. He… he _is_ hungry. The gnawing in his stomach is as insistent as he'd expect. But it's hard to ignore the nausea at the thought of eating anything. 

He flicks his gaze up to Nines, who is eyeing him intently. He looks back down, and lifts the spoon to his mouth. He chews slowly, and swallows deliberately, ignoring the slight nausea running through him. 

It's not so bad… he can do this. 

So Connor tells himself, but he only gets through about half the bowl before he sets the spoon down, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and closing his eyes. 

He hears the bowl slide away. "That's enough for now. You did well, Connor."

The words make a pleasant feeling flutter through his chest, and he cracks open his eyelids to see Nines hovering his hands over Connor's arms again. 

Connor meets his eyes. _You can touch me,_ he signs. _You don't have to ask, or wait. I don't mind if it's you. It's just when waking up that I was confused._

Nines blinks. "Alright," he murmurs, before setting his hands on Connor's arms. "Would you like to sit on the couch?"

"Mm," he hums, nodding. So Nines pulls him up, and they make their way over. Nines sits first, pulling Connor down to sit next to him. He drags his hands down Connor's arms until they rest against Connor's hands—and only after a moment of pause, Connor curls his fingers around the cool skin. 

Connor looks up, meeting Nines's eyes. Icy blue, slitted. He slides a hand free to frame his face, thumb brushing below the fae's left eye.

"Your eyes…" Connor whispers, "They're always the same."

Nines blinks slowly. "They are. I can change them if I truly wish, but I have no desire to."

"Understandable. Pretty color… and very you."

"I know."

Connor huffs lightly, rolling his eyes and dropping his hand back down. They sit there quietly, hands locked together. "Hey," he says, at some point. "How did you find me? Was it the deal? How did you know I was…" His eyes flutter shut, and he feels Nines wrap an arm around him to pull him closer, tucking Connor's head under his chin.

"It was partially the deal, I suppose…" Nines lifts a hand to brush through Connor's hair, before settling at the back of his neck. "I was able to find you thanks to that. Though I would not have noticed if I hadn't… marked you."

Connor shifts. "... Marked?"

"When I bit you. I hoped it wouldn't take, though I suppose at least some effect was inevitable."

"What… kind of effects."

Nines brushes his thumb against his neck. "It is a link. A weak one, in your case. I am aware if your life is in danger. And it… marks you as mine. Forgive me."

His. "Yours…"

A soft sigh. "It is a dated practice. Many supernatural entities can still detect if an individual has been marked, though, and plenty who are able to continue to do so. Since I attempted to heal yours as soon as possible, your attacker may not have noticed at all."

No… she did, didn't she? Half-heard words… _marked._ "She did notice," Connor whispers. "If she didn't… if she didn't. She wouldn't have stopped."

Nines's hold tightens. 

"I don't… I don't mind that you've kind-of marked me." Honestly, the knowledge settles almost _comfortingly_ around him. Knowing that Nines would just _know_ if he was in real danger. "I don't mind…" Connor murmurs again, squeezing his arms around the fae.

"That is… good." 

Connor closes his eyes, basking in Nines's touch. He wishes he could just stay like this… forget about everything that had happened. Chase away the memory of _her_ touch. 

Stop. Stop _thinking_ about it. 

"Can I touch your antlers?" Connor asks suddenly.

Nines's absently circling thumb, on the back of Connor's neck, pauses. "I… suppose." He slides away his hand, peeling away from Connor. 

Connor can't read the expression he's making. His eyes follow Connor's hand as he reaches one up to trail his fingers across the black horns. It's… very smooth, and very cool. Like something between metal and bone. Nines stays still, allowing Connor to trace the shape. "Can you feel it?" Connor asks.

"I receive no sensory input from them directly, but I can feel something there from the base." 

"Huh…" Connor drags his hand lower, "Here?" and he pushes his fingers through Nines's hair, rubbing at where the material transitions to skin.

Nines stops moving entirely. "Yes. Yes, I can… feel it there."

Connor pauses at the reaction. The two of them look at each other for a few seconds, and then Connor reaches up with his other hand to circle the base of Nines's other antler. 

The fae's eyes flutter shut. He breathes deeply as Connor moves his fingers around the base, drags them through Nines's hair. Before long, Nines seems to almost… _melt_ under Connor's touch. He slowly leans closer, slow enough that Connor barely even notices until Nines's head is against his chest, arms curled loosely around him. 

He is strongly reminded of that time Nines was a cat. And suddenly, he can't unthink it. Nines is pretty much a giant cat, here, isn't he? A giant cat with antlers and butterfly-ish wings, which flutter minutely throughout Connor's ministrations. 

This is… very nice. Nines's hair is so soft… his antlers are so smooth. The weight against Connor is grounding, the slow rise and fall of Nines's chest almost hypnotic. It's so nice… 

He feels a hand brush at his face, and finds himself looking into Nines's icy eyes. His movements have stopped, Connor realizes—he's just been loosely holding onto the base of Nines's antlers. "You're crying," the fae murmurs. 

"Oh." He is. He hadn't noticed. 

Nines sits up, Connor's hands slipping free. Nines's hands come up to frame his face, thumbing away the tears. "Are you alright?"

"I…" Connor blinks slowly. He can't look away. Doesn't want to. "I don't know…" More tears spill freely from his eyes. He doesn't know where they're coming from. He is… he is… "I'm tired," he says. 

Nines closes his eyes and nods, before adjusting his grip to wrap around his torso and—bodily lifting Connor from the couch. Connor hooks his arms around Nines's neck with an _eep,_ eyes shut, clinging to him as he's carried off towards his bedroom. 

He feels himself being lowered, back meeting the soft material of his mattress. The arms pull away from his back, and his hands slide down Nines's neck all the way down to his forearms. He opens his eyes to see Nines's face, then, and tightens his grip, preventing the fae from pulling further away. "Stay. Please."

"Of course," Nines answers, and lowers himself to lay by Connor's side. Connor twists himself to face the fae, gazing into his eyes, even as tears continue to drip down his face. Nines reaches up, brushing the wetness away with his knuckles. 

Connor lifts his hands to curl around the one on his face. Another moment, and he pulls them down as he presses his head to Nines's chest. 

There's a heartbeat. Very, very slow. Connor closes his eyes, listening to the rhythm, while Nines pulls another hand up to wrap around the back of Connor's neck. He hears something shifting, the light of dusk darkening beyond his eyelids. When he blinks open his eyes to take a look, he sees that Nines has draped his wings over the two of them. 

Connor exhales slowly, closing his eyes again. 

And lets himself drift away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I amused myself with the image of Nines's antlers hitting the top of the door
> 
> also, have some casual fae Nines + Nines with itty bitty antlers. Click for fullview :'D  
>  [](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/478578515768246282/708361375419727922/image0.jpg)


	3. Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 1330

Connor sleeps, mostly. There are a few times he gets to half-wakefulness, limbs numb and eyes heavy, before slipping under again. Nines manages to get him to eat something around midnight, and he goes right back to sleep after. 

He stirs sometime late in the morning of the next day. Nines tells him that the bite should be fully healed, and Connor lets the fae pull him to a sitting position to remove the bandages. His touch is slow, gentle, as he unfastens the top buttons of his shirt and pushes the fabric aside. Nines's cool fingers unwind the bandage around his neck, and then drag across the unblemished skin. 

Connor shivers at the touch, and then wraps his arms around Nines again, pulling him down. He falls asleep just like that. 

He wakes up to fingers running through his hair, Nines watching him intently. "I don't know how to help you," he says quietly.

_ You are,  _ Connor tells him through their joined hands.  _ Just by being here. _

Nines frowns slightly, before tucking Connor's forelock back—only for it to spring back into place, of course. He blinks. "You should eat."

He should. 

"Show me something you like." 

Pancakes would be nice… maybe… 

He feels the cool plunge of Nines in his mind again, and then the fae tells him, "Wait here, if you like. I will prepare them." 

But when Nines gets up, Connor follows, dragging his blanket with him. Nines eyes him, and then turns to leave, going to the main room. Connor trails after him, wearing his blanket like a cape, but turns toward the couch when Nines heads toward the kitchen. 

Connor curls up on the cushions, watching as Nines almost perfectly mimics everything Connor does when making pancakes for himself. The pleasant scent starts to curl around the house, and before he knows it, Nines is walking out with a plate in one hand and syrup in another. "It's alright if you can't finish it," Nines prefaces, "but I hope it is to your liking." He pauses. "It should be the exact way you cook it, regardless." 

_ Thank you, Nines,  _ Connor signs, using the actual number for the sign. He gets up, still dragging the blanket with him, and sits at the table. Nines's wings flutter slightly, before he comes to sit across from him. 

Connor starts eating, and—it's good. It's good, and he's so  _ hungry; _ it's  _ familiar,  _ yet the knowledge that Nines made it for him rings differently within him. His stomach doesn't churn horribly, and he manages to actually finish most of it. Well, actually, "Do you want any?" Connor asks. 

Nines blinks. "I have no preference. I suppose it might be interesting." 

"How does eating work for you, anyways?" Connor asks. 

"It is not a strictly necessary function, but I am able to decompose anything I consume into energy."

"Like… magically?"

"Indeed."

Neat. 

Nines tries a bit. "It is good," he announces. "I can see why you enjoy eating them."

Connor smiles, just a little bit, and finishes the rest. 

He curls up with Nines on the couch, then, blanket pulled over both of them. Leaning on Nines's chest. He absently runs his fingers across the fabric of Nines's shirt—over his chest, down his arm. He slides his hand to Nines's shoulder, and after a moment of hesitation, starts gliding them down the folded wings. 

The fae exhales shakily, almost, against Connor's hair, and the wings shiver under his fingers. It's surprisingly smooth, and not dusty like the blue section was when he'd touched it. It's got the texture of a flower petal, he thinks. Very nice against his skin. 

He drifts off, and comes to in bed, hours later, Nines wrapped around him, to his phone buzzing with a notification. 

Nines slides his phone into Connor's hand, and he sees—it's a text. From Gavin. 

_ hey  _

_ how are you _

_ didn't do anything stupid did you _

Oh. Right.

> _ I may have. _

Almost instantly:

_ are you okay??? _

Connor stares at the text. 

> _ No. _

he sends, after at least a full minute, and Nines tightens his hold on Connor. His phone immediately starts flooding with more texts. 

_ shit _

_ fuck _

_ do you wanna talk about it? _

_ if you don't I get it _

_ just _

_ fuck _

_ I'm here if you need to talk, okay _

Connor watches them come. 

> _ I didn't listen to your advice. Sorry. _

_ okay _

_ whatever happened, don't apologize _

_ from what I've seen of you, probably not your fault _

Connor's grip tightens. 

> _ How can you say that for sure, Gavin? We've barely interacted with each other.  _
> 
> _ What I know is this: if I'd thought about it a little harder, I probably could have avoided it. If I'd listened to you, I probably could have avoided it. If I wasn't so afraid of getting into a relationship, I could have avoided it. If I'd been more patient. If I'd reached out for help. If I didn't panic.  _
> 
> _ What I know is this: I was dumb. Dumb and unlucky. And now I'm broken. _

"Connor," he hears. Distantly in his mind. Close in proximity. 

_ fuck that _

he receives, and stares blankly at it, as the "..." of another message pops up on his screen. 

_ here's what I know: everyone at the dpd likes you, and that's saying something. you're really shy and don't really know how to interact with people. you have no tact. you're brilliant, and you've got a lot to say even if you have some trouble saying it. it shines in all the books you've written. there's a lot of things you don't know, and you might get hurt for it _

_ but it's not your fucking fault _

_ I don't know what happened and you don't have to tell me _

_ but you're more than what happened to you. you'll make it through, okay?  _

Connor stares. He stares, until the text becomes too blurry for him to see. Until the tears start spilling uncontrollably from his eyes, and he makes a sound deep in his throat. 

He feels hands brush through his hair soothingly, and he sobs, throwing himself around to cling tightly to Nines's chest. The fae wraps an arm around his back, other hand still carding through his hair. Nines's wings lift to wrap around them, insulating him, and he sobs harder, clings tighter. The fae holds him through all of it. "I'm here," Nines murmurs, "I'm here."

"How can he say that?" Connor whines. "How does he know? How do  _ I _ know I'll be okay?"

"Time heals all wounds," Nines answers him. "You will be alright."

He shudders, clutching Nines's shirt. Eventually, though, he slows. His desperate gasping turns to labored breaths, and then slowly, slowly, he matches the rise and fall of Nines own breathing. "There are more messages," the fae murmurs, at some point. "Would you like to see them?" 

He nods, and his phone is soon back in his hand. 

_ I'm guessing you saw since that last message was read _

_ hope I didn't overstep. you don't have to reply, but _

_ if you can't talk to me, then maybe someone else. your dad, or a therapist if you think it's necessary and you're up to it _

That was twenty minutes ago. Had he really taken that long to gather himself? 

> _ Thank you, Gavin. I… appreciate your words. I just needed a moment to gather myself.  _
> 
> _ As for talking to my dad or a therapist… I'll consider it.  _

And then,

_ a moment, huh _

_ anyways. I'm glad. hope I helped.  _

_ I hope so, too.  _

After that, Connor returns his phone to the bedside table, crawling over Nines to do it. He doesn't bother returning to his original position—he stays splayed over Nines, and the fae only huffs before wrapping his arms around Connor. "Are you hungry?"

Well. "A little," Nines shifts— "but can we just stay here like this for now?"

After a few seconds, Nines sighs. "Alright. But you must eat later, then."

"Okay… thanks, Nines," he mumbles against Nines's neck. 

"Of course…" the fae murmurs absently. "Of course."


	4. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2699
> 
> I had fun with this chapter :'>

The days pass in a haze. Connor sleeps. He eats. He tries to write, at some point, but he only ends up staring at his tablet for twenty minutes before Nines pries it away. 

Nines is always there. Connor feels like he might be getting better at reading the fae, and he can't help but think that he looks… lost. He lies with Connor all night and day, holding him close. He plies recipes from Connor's mind, making sure Connor's fed with the taste of his own cooking. 

"Would you like to go outside?" Nines asks him, one day. "I'll be right with you."

Yes… that might be nice.

Connor sluggishly dresses himself, and Nines shifts back into looking fully human. Connor takes the fae's hand before they walk out the door, and with a deep breath, pushes open the door. 

He immediately wants to go back inside, but Nines squeezes his hand, gently pulling them forward. Connor allows himself to be dragged along. 

It's pretty early in the morning—seven AM—and the sky is dusted with clouds. The muted glow of the overcast sky is nice. Relaxing. He breathes. The air is crisp, filling his lungs with nipping sharpness. Winter is setting in, and he can feel it. 

There aren't a lot of people around, and Connor's grateful for it. They walk silently, hand in hand, Nines taking the lead. They wind through a park, through the trees whispering a language he doesn't understand. Does Nines understand them, he wonders. Do the trees truly have voices… 

"Yes," Nines tells him. 

What do they say?

"Not much, unless you ask."

Interesting… 

Nines seems to bask in the air of the park, eyes half-lidded, breathing deeply, as they wind through the paths. Didn't he say he got energy from nature or something? Maybe this is like a meal for him. 

"You could say that."

Huh. 

They turn back not long after that. There are more people now—it's almost ten AM—though they give the two of them a wide berth. 

_ Humans do have a supernatural sense. Largely subconscious. They instinctively avoid the presence of powerful beings such as myself.  _

Ha. Not Connor, though?

_ Willful ignorance, perhaps.  _

Connor huffs at that. 

They arrive home the way they left, hands interlaced. "I think I feel a little better," Connor says quietly. "Thank you, Nines."

"No need to thank me. I enjoyed it, as well." 

Connor manages to write a bit, after that. That helps, too—the familiarity of losing himself in another world… 

But it isn't long before he's just curled on the couch, staring blankly into space, back against Nines's side.

His phone rings.  **Hank Anderson (Dad)** , it says, when Connor fishes it out of his pocket. He picks up.

_ "... Connor?" _

Nines lays a hand on his shoulder. 

He hums. "Hey, Dad." 

_ "Everything okay? Since I got better, you never missed a day… but you haven't called or visited for… almost a week?" _

Yeah. He hasn't. He couldn't work up the nerve. 

_ "C'mon, Con, talk to me? Or text me? The last time we called was… was… " _

There's a very long pause. 

_ "Did you ever say what kind of being you made a deal with?" _

"No, I guess I didn't."

_ "... What… was it?" _

Connor doesn't answer for a moment. "A fae," he says eventually. "A Greater Fae, it seems."

Another long pause.  _ "Six days ago… did anything happen?" _

Connor closes his eyes. "Yes."

A sharp inhale from the other end of the call.  _ "Connor. Are you… okay?" _

"No."

Muffled, shaky breathing, like it's from behind a hand. And then,  _ "Can I come see you? God, please, let me see you, at least." _

"Yes," Connor says quietly. "Please," even quieter. 

_ "Okay. Okay, kid."  _ The voice is choked, almost.  _ "I'll be there in twenty minutes. That okay?" _

"Yes… that's fine."

_ "Okay. Alright. See… see you soon, Con." _

"See you soon." There's an awkward pause where neither of them hang up. Nines spares them both, taking his phone and hitting the button to end the call. 

"Would you like me to leave?" The fae asks. 

"No. No. Please don't leave."

"Alright. I won't." 

Connor turns around to wrap himself around Nines, who exhales softly and runs his fingers through Connor's hair. And so they stay, time ticking by, until finally—the doorbell rings. 

Nines's fingers still, but Connor doesn't move to get up. 

"Would you like me to get it?"

Connor gives an affirmative hum, and Nines gently pries his arms off before padding to the door. He glances back one more time, meeting Connor's eyes, and then opens it. 

A few seconds pass. "You're not Connor."

"No," Nines confirms. "I am not." 

"Where is he?" Vaguely threatening. Clearly worried. 

"Right inside," and Nines steps aside, opening the door further. And there Dad is, looking worn, scared, worried, and then pushing past Nines to get to Connor. 

He pauses, though, a little ways off, an unsure look on his face. Connor lifts his arms, and Dad's face seems to crumble, as he takes the last few steps to sit next to Connor and wrap him in a warm and familiar embrace. 

Connor's vision blurs. Tears well up in his eyes as he clutches at his dad's back with trembling hands. "Dad," he whispers. "I was so scared."

His dad makes a deep keening sound, squeezing him more tightly. "Shh, sh, it's okay. You're okay now, son… you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." 

"Dad," Connor sobs, shaking his head. "Dad, she. She asked me to—"

"Connor—" 

"She took over my mind and she r- _ raped  _ me, she raped me and I couldn't do anything. She was going to  _ kill me! _ I thought I was gonna die. I-I thought… I thought I might kill you if I died…" 

"God. I'm s-sorry, Con. I'm so sorry." Dad's voice shook with the force of his own tears, now. "Oh,  _ god.  _ Y-you're safe now, okay? She can't hurt you." 

"It still hurts," Connor sobs. "I'm all healed but it still hurts."

"Shh, shh." Dad presses a kiss to his hair, rocking him slightly, and Connor gives a broken sob. "I know… let it out, kid…" 

He does. He shudders and gasps, shaking from the force of his sobs, making a mess of his dad's shoulder. 

Nines comes to sit behind him, at some point, opposite of Dad. The fae lays a hand on Connor's shoulder, and—it helps. Slowly, he pieces himself back together, breathing evening out, the emotions stilling to dull numbness. 

He pulls back. Dad meets his eyes—the tears on his face are clear, and his expression full of something like grief. And then his gaze lands on Nines's hand, where it lies on Connor's shoulder, and his brow furrows. 

"Connor… who is this? He looks just like you."

Connor lifts a hand to lay over Nines's. But only for a moment, since he signs,  _ This is Nines. He saved me,  _ with both hands. 

"Nines?" At Connor's nod, Dad sits back and looks over Connor's shoulder—at Nines, probably. 

"So are you the faery my kid has been fucking?"

Connor slaps his dad's shoulder, before burying his burning face in his hands. 

"We haven't had intercourse since I discovered my infertility, but I suppose, yes."

Dad scoffs weakly. "Wow. I can't believe you found someone as tactless as you, Connor." 

Connor slaps his shoulder again, betrayed, and turns around to wrap his arms around Nines. After a moment, Nines lays his own arms across Connor's back. 

"... Are… you two a thing?" 

Connor stills. 

Nines hums. "I suppose that depends on what you call 'a thing.'" 

Connor turns around slightly to see his dad gesture vaguely. "In a relationship."

"There are many kinds of relationships," Nines answers. "Two friends would be 'a thing,' then, no? Family members?"

Dad groans. "A romantic one! Jesus Christ. Of course the fae are so fucking literal." 

There's a pause. Connor wonders what Nines will answer. Instead, the fae drags a hand down his back, taking Connor's hand. The cool slide of Nines against his mind is familiar, now.  _ What are we,  _ Nines asks him.

And Connor… doesn't know. Objectively, they are tied together by their deal. By Nines's accidental partial-mark. But beyond that… Nines is… 

Emotions and memories flit rapidly through his mind. Their first meeting. Surprise and shock. Their first time together. A kind of pleasure Connor's never felt before. After, the kiss… the fluttering in his chest he couldn't name. The curiosity, watching Nines transform right before his eyes. The warm cotton feeling after their last time. His requests to  _ stay.  _

And then, the meetings. Always in the guise of someone else. Curiosity. Hope. Denial. And then, a quiet despair. Descending, letting himself fall, fall, until he hit the bottom and shattered, but—Nines came. He was there. And then, Connor was  _ safe.  _ And now…?

He wishes, more than anything, that Nines wouldn’t leave again. He doesn't think he'd be able to catch himself when he falls. But how long…? How long until he leaves again? How long until Nines gets tired of taking care of him? 

And then.  _ Then, _ Nines answers him with echoes of his own. Connor is—the first human to wander into his forest in a hundred years, almost. A curious individual. And… different. He'd never had  _ that  _ suggested to him before, but who was he to deny such an efficient solution? 

The human seemed a little foolhardy, but honest and genuine—considering how dastardly humans could be in trying to squirm out of paying for their deals, Nines was glad for it. 

Their first time. And the times after. Nines, too, had never felt anything like it. Feeling Connor  _ inside _ him was strange, but it set off not-unpleasant sparks in his body and mind. A feeling of completion he never knew, and then the gentle hands running across him, clinging to him. It was… strangely endearing. Had the human no sense of danger? Nines could end him in an instant.

Even when Nines tore into his flesh, he hadn't shown any of the fear his kind commonly demonstrates in his presence. Perhaps slightly when Nines detailed his methods of collecting debt—but fair, no? 

He remembers—discovering his infertility. He felt… something. It wasn't pleasant. It felt better when Connor asked after him, when Connor laid a hand on his shoulder. Curious. Nines had left, then, but for a reason unknown to himself—he came back. 

The human was very solitary. Nines did not know much of humanity, but he is certain that they tend to be the social sort. But it gave him ample opportunity to approach. Yes, he joined Connor in that cafe that day since he thought it would be interesting. But not for the coffee. He thought it would be interesting to see what he's like, without the context of their deal… 

His smiles and laughs were very nice. They made Nines feel… something pleasant. And the more Nines learned about him, the more he wanted to know. Despite himself, he found himself approaching Connor again, and again. He knew—he  _ knew  _ Connor had started to recognize him. But he wasn't ready to acknowledge it, and when Connor asked—he had fled. 

He spent hours, days, simply sitting in his forest, surrounded by the black and blue flowers that so strongly resemble his wings. He didn't understand. He wanted to go back. He didn't want to go back. He wondered how Connor was doing. 

And then, a feeling like a slack string being pulled taut. Confusion. Realization. Focusing on the human brought him to—a cold alley, pain, pleasure, fear fear  _ fear  _ and—quiet resignation. 

Never had such a rage consumed him so thoroughly. Rage, and a horrible feeling he couldn't name. Connor was  _ dying— _

Tearing through the fabric of spacetime. He saw— _ her,  _ and didn't hesitate to tear off her limbs, blood spraying everywhere—though not on him, by the sheer power of his  _ will,  _ and not anywhere near Connor. He wouldn't allow any risk of infection. He grabbed her by the neck, boring his cold eyes into hers, desperate and afraid, before plunging his hand into her chest. She writhed, screaming voicelessly, as something shining came out, pierced on Nines's claws. Her soul. She looked at it, raw terror and realization on her face, before Nines's hand thrummed with power, and it shattered into nothingness. The empty shell seized violently, and fell still. Nines tossed it aside, and turned. He was… He was  _ afraid  _ of what he'd find. 

But there Connor was. Weak. Violated. But  _ alive,  _ and it made something burn in Nines's chest. It hurt. Why does it hurt? Connor is safe now. Connor is safe, and Nines can keep him that way… 

But… he's different. Something is shattered within him. Nines wishes he could make it go away, like Connor could make  _ his  _ bad feelings go away. But he doesn't know what to do. One thing is for certain, though:

_ I won't go. _

"My god," Connor hears. His dad's voice. "You're…"

Connor blinks, shaking himself back into reality, returning himself to his own mind. He looks up and sees Nines, watching him intently. 

With a single tear sliding down his face. 

Connor blinks at him, and then leans in closer. Closer, until his lips brush against the cool skin of Nines's cheek, and he can taste the strange sweetness on his tongue. He wonders if it's what nectar tastes like. 

A hand comes to rest on the back of Connor's neck, and he slides his lips down to bury his face on Nines's shoulder. "I think we're something, Dad," he murmurs. 

"You think," Dad says weakly. 

"Mhm," he confirms. "Don't know what exactly, but it's something…"

"Connor, I hate to break it to you, but if you've been fucking and kissing and holding hands, I'm really not sure what else to call it."

Connor turns his head to fix his dad with a look. 

"Okay, okay," Dad says, lifting his hands in surrender. His gaze flicks up—to Nines, probably—and back down to Connor. "Is he—are you—he's… is he safe? He hasn't glamoured you or anything, has he?"

Nines's grip tightens around him. "I have done no such thing, human."

Connor reaches out a hand to grab his dad's. "Dad, he helped— _ is _ helping me. If he hadn't found me, I would have died. And if he hadn't stayed… I don't think I would have gotten up, afterwards." Connor sighs. "He's making sure I eat and everything. I still… I just… " 

Dad squeezes Connor's hand tightly. "Alright, kid." And then, "So… you haven't been eating properly, huh." 

Connor's silence is answer enough. Dad sighs. "Okay. Why don't I make some of that soup you like? Been a while, yeah?"

Oh. "That'd be nice…" Dad would always make it for him when he was sick. He could almost always finish it, even if he was feeling horrible. 

"Yeah, alright. Hang tight, Con." Dad gets up and shuffles to the kitchen, giving another glance at Nines before making his way over. 

_ So,  _ Connor hears in his mind.  _ That is your father. I suppose the last time I saw him, he was very nearly on his deathbed. _

God, that feels like such a long time ago.  _ Yeah. _

_ He loves you greatly. _

Connor closes his eyes.  _ Yeah. _

"What have you been eating, anyways?" Dad calls from the kitchen. "You been cooking?"

"Nines has," Connor answers. 

A clatter. "Wh— _ really?" _

"He downloads recipes from my brain with his brain powers or something. So it's pretty much like eating my own food."

Connor can almost feel Dad throwing his hands in the air. "Sure,  _ I guess!"  _ Connor chuckles a bit while his dad continues to grumble. "Can't believe this. A Greater Fae! Higher being. Fuck's sake."

Connor laughs, again, and lifts himself up slightly. He catches sight of Nines's expression—watching him intently, mouth slightly parted. Connor tilts his head. 

_ It is very nice when you laugh,  _ Nines informs him. 

"Oh." His face feels warm, so he dives back under Nines's chin. "Thanks," he mumbles, muffled. 

He thinks he might feel Nines smile against his hair. But if nothing else—right now, with the smell of Dad's soup starting to drift through the air, and Nines wrapped tightly around him—he feels the best he has in days. 


	5. Relinquish (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all want things. Good things, bad things... but who can say which is which?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3473

Dad stays for a week or so, taking time off work and sleeping on Connor's couch. 

Seeing the way he interacts with Nines is… interesting. It's clear he's still not sure what to make of the fae, and he still jumps slightly if Nines manages to sneak up on him. Connor's pretty sure he's staying in his human form—except for when Connor sleeps—so that Dad doesn't get  _ too  _ unnerved.

Come to think of it, maybe he's unnerved because Nines looks just like Connor. Hmm.

"Where does he stay overnight? He doesn't need to sleep, does he?" Hank asks, after Connor finishes his soup that first day. 

"He sleeps with me," Connor answers.

Dad groans. "I should have known… Really, no funny business?"

"He holds me and I feel safe." 

The way Nines looks at him after that makes Connor's heart skip a beat. That night, he pulls Connor's back to his chest, wrapping him thoroughly in contact. It is… nice. 

When Connor gives Nines scritches on the couch, and the nubs of the fae's antlers start to poke through his hair and curl into his smaller antlers, Dad just looks at them for a solid minute. Connor stares back, daring him to say anything. He doesn't, in the end, and just walks away to make dinner. 

Dad's conversations with Nines are delightfully awkward, too. Connor is sitting on the couch one day, knees pulled up to his chin, swaddled in a blanket, staring at the two of them. Both Dad and Nines are in the kitchen—the fae wanted to learn how to actually cook from Dad, instead of exactly copying things from Connor's mind.

Results are mixed, but Connor's been eating much better regardless. And Dad seems to relax slightly around the fae, after getting an excuse to tell him what he's doing wrong—"No, you idio—uhh, you have to wait for the oil to heat first—" So Connor counts it as win all around. 

Dad then asks, while Nines is watching him, "So what do you want from Connor, anyway?"

Nines blinks, eyes flicking to Connor and back. "What I want from him?"

"Yeah. As far as I know, fae never do things unless there's something in it for them. So," he shuffles awkwardly, "what are you after?"

Nines takes a moment to respond. "He…" Nines looks at Connor, who stares back. "He makes me feel things I've never felt. I…  _ enjoy _ his presence. And it  _ displeases  _ me to see him harmed. I want…" Nines hums. "I want to see him happy. Safe. I want…" His brow furrows slightly, but he says no more. 

Dad shoots Nines a look, but he doesn't hold it for long before he sighs, gaze darting away. "I guess I'll take it…"

That night, with the two of them wrapped around each other, Connor's head under Nines's chin, Connor asks, "You were going to say something else. What were you going to say?"

Nines tightens his grip. Just enough to be almost uncomfortable. He shifts, lowering his head, brushing his lips by Connor's ear. "I want  _ you." _

The words make a chill run through his entire body. He knows, of course, that this being is dangerous. Can kill without batting an eye,  _ has _ killed without mercy. But even so, Connor finds himself free of fear. He pushes himself backwards slightly, enough to meet Nines's slitted eyes, and lifts a hand to his cheek. "You already have me," he murmurs, before leaning in. 

The fae meets him earlier than halfway, pressing his lips firmly to Connor's. The sensation is familiar, settling in his mind in a feeling almost like coming home. Connor sighs, parting his mouth, and Nines's tongue darts in, entangling with Connor's own tongue and filling his mouth with that wintry taste. "Mm," Connor hums, as the wet sounds of their kissing fill the air. He hooks a leg over Nines's side, pressing them even closer. 

His dick presses against Nines's body, then, and the spark of pleasure makes him freeze. Nines immediately pulls back with a wet sound, saliva glistening between them, looking at Connor with a pinched expression. "Connor," he murmurs.

He's still a little breathless, but that doesn't keep Connor from saying, "I'm sorry. I…"

"Shh…" Nines pulls Connor's head to his chest. "It is not your fault. We can discuss this later. And if your reaction to my presence at your father's house was any indication, perhaps you would prefer that he were  _ not  _ in the next room if we were to do this." 

Connor laughs weakly. "True. Very true." 

They don't actually talk about it until much later, though. 

Having Dad around helps a lot—between the food, the hugs, the casual chatter, and just having him nearby, Connor slowly starts feeling like himself again—but he has work, and the couch isn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep. 

"Connor," he says, once he brings it up one morning, "You're more important than all that."

Connor has to blink away tears at that, but he insists: "I'll be okay. I have Nines, and I don't want you to sacrifice too much for my sake. You're important, too."

"Says the person who made a deal for me."

"Yeah," Connor says, "Precisely."

Dad caves eventually. "Call me every day, okay?" He says at the door. "Say the word, and I'll be here."

"Okay." Connor doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his dad. "Love you, Dad. Thank you."

"Aw, Con," he mumbles, rubbing Connor's back. "That's what I'm here for. Love you too." 

The apartment is quiet without Dad here. Not that Connor minds—it's just different. He spends most of the rest of the day on the couch with Nines, either writing or basking in the contact. 

When night falls and they go to bed, Connor lies awake in the darkness for a while, staring at nothing in particular. Nines holds him from behind, arms across Connor's chest, wings curled around them. 

"Nines?" He asks quietly. 

"... Yes?"

"Can you fuck me?"

Nines doesn't answer for a few seconds. Then he pulls away, wings falling to his back, maneuvering Connor to face him. His expression is unreadable—his eyes shine in the dark, and he can make out the shape of his smaller antlers, but the angle casts most of his face in darkness. "I am capable of it. But I worry that it would do you more harm than good." 

"You won't hurt me. I trust you."

"You do not know that. I will not hurt you by intent, but your mind may still construe the sensations as—"

"I want to stop thinking about her. I want to move on. I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget what she ever felt like."

Nines's jaw clenches. 

Connor leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Nines's mouth. "I want to be yours. Completely."

And Nines presses Connor to his back in an instant, lips slamming onto his, tongue diving deep into his mouth. Connor moans, heat already shooting to his gut, before Nines pulls back, hands on either side of Connor's head. "If you need me to stop, or wait—"

"I'll tell you," Connor breathes, hooking a hand behind Nines's neck. "I'll tell you. Please. I want to be yours so bad." 

And so Nines presses another heated kiss into his mouth, running his hands down Connor's body, slipping under his shirt,  _ caressing  _ him so, so, gently. 

One hand slides away—and then there's a hand interlacing through his, the one he'd left clenching aimlessly by his head, and he's suddenly  _ linked.  _ He gasps, breaking apart from the kiss. He can  _ feel _ Nines's burning want, his hesitation, his  _ adoration,  _ and the tears are already starting to form in his eyes. 

_ Please. Please, please, please…  _ He's not even sure what he's asking for, anymore. 

_ I'm here,  _ answers him, and a keen tears itself from his throat. And then, a questioning feeling— _ clothes? _

_ Not—the shirt. Just not the shirt. _

_ Alright.  _

Nines sits up a bit, hand sliding from his, and the parting of the connection feels  _ different.  _ Like honey, or something, viscous and lingering. Fingers trail down his sides until they meet his pants, where they hook onto the elastic band and slide the cloth almost reverently away from his skin. When Connor looks up, he sees Nines staring at his face with an intense look, slits razor-thin, wings lifted slightly and casting the scene in a soft glow. Connor shivers, closing his eyes. 

More shifting, Nines lifting away, and then—skin to skin, Nines's legs entangling with his. "May I touch your phallus, Connor?"

Connor snorts. "Yeah, go for i—ahh-hh…" and he's bucking into Nines's grasp as the fae squeezes his length, running his hand up and down his dick. He looks down, and sees Nines brush his thumb against the tip, drawing a groan out of him. His head falls back. 

His breath hitches as he remembers the last time he was touched—no, no. This is good, this is Nines. Connor breathes, calming his racing mind—as much as he can with the pleasure building in him. Nines is clearly inexperienced as well, but seems to pay attention to what makes Connor gasp, and it isn't long before he's shivering from the sensations, toeing the edge.

There's a hand at his face, gently dragging down his cheek. "You're so beautiful, Connor. Would you like to come?" He asks, squeezing him  _ just _ so. 

"Ah-hh," Connor sobs, almost, "please, please…"

A whisper by his ear. "Come, then," and he does, cum coating his groin and Nines's hand. He sags, breathless, while Nines strokes him a few more times, milking him of his seed. After a second, he opens his eyes to see Nines sitting back, bringing his fingers to his mouth, and a black tongue darting out to taste his release. "Interesting," Nines murmurs. 

Despite having just come, Connor's dick twitches at the sight. 

"Hmm," Nines hums, before looking down at Connor. "Would you still like to continue?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Please. This might make the next part easier, actually…" His eyes slide down, and it's at this point he sees Nines's dick, standing at full mast. It's identical to his, but hairless—he figured, but he's still surprised at the sight of it. He swallows dryly. 

"Mm," Nines hums again, shifting and grabbing Connor's legs, lifting them and spreading them apart. He pauses, then. "I am unsure how to continue…" The fae drags a finger from his dick down to his entrance, and Connor can't help the twitch at the touch. "Here, I presume?"

Connor is really glad he has some theoretical experience. "Y-yeah, you… I need to be prepared first—I—shit." He doesn't have any lubricant. He's an asexual that is—or  _ was _ —living alone, and it'd never occurred for him to get any. 

"What is it?" Nines asks, pulling his hand away. 

"Um." Connor squirms slightly. "Usually it's… a lot better if you have lubricant, since I—I don't self-lubricate, but, well… I guess spit will… kinda work…" He spits into his hand, rubbing the fluid across his fingers, and lifts himself slightly—Nines backs up a bit, giving him space—so that he can push a finger into his tight muscle. It feels… weird, and kinda uncomfortable, but he's hoping it'll get better. "You… start with one finger and work your way up." He pulls his hand back, spitting more saliva in his hand before pushing his finger back in. "I guess spit doesn't last that long…"

There's a soft sound from Nines, and a touch on his wrist. Connor stops, looking up, and sees Nines looking at his hand with a considering expression on his face. He looks back up at Connor's face before his other hand dives to his own groin, and Connor hears the sound of quiet squelching.

Connor's eyes widen. Does he still have— 

The fae lifts his hand, covered in slick, tilting his head at Connor. "Would this be sufficient?"

Connor's pretty sure his brain short-circuits right then. He's already starting to get hard again, and the thought of Nines using his own slick to prepare him is—"Yes. Yes. That… would be. Better," he manages airily. 

Nines nods, and gently pulls Connor's finger out of himself. And then it's Nines's fingers pushing at his entrance—claws rounded, it seems, which is nice—and his muscle parts for the fae's first finger readily. 

It feels a lot better than when he was doing it himself, if still a little weird. "Another," he mumbles, and then Nines is prying his entrance wider with another finger. "Mm," Connor hums. "You can scissor your fingers, too," he says, demonstrating with a free hand. Nines nods, and begins doing so. Connor's brow pinches in discomfort, and he can't help squirming a bit. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"No… just uncomfortable." 

Nines hums, pulling his fingers out. He hears—more squelching, and if  _ that  _ doesn't send a bolt of heat to his gut—and then Nines's fingers are back, covered in fresh slick. 

God. He feels like he could come at the mere thought of this, nevermind the sensation. Nines runs a hand up his chest, down his arm, to his hand, and interlaces them again. The fae's mind spills into his, and Connor sighs, relaxing into the feeling despite the strange intrusion in him. 

Nines adds another finger, at some point, and when he curls his fingers  _ just so,  _ and Connor's back arches off the bed. "Ha-aah," he gasps, and he feels Nines pause and do it  _ again. _ "N-Nines!" 

It's a  _ lot. _ But before he can even ask Nines to slow down, the fae is already squeezing his hand, leaning down to press gentle kisses to Connor's temple. His fingers have stopped moving, giving Connor a moment to catch his breath. 

Connor lifts his free hand to grab the back of Nines's head and pull his lips to Connor's. The kiss is slow and sweet, and Connor nearly forgets that Nines has his fingers in Connor's ass. Almost. 

"Want you inside me," Connor whispers against Nines's mouth. 

Nines huffs against him,  _ Aren't I already? _ but Connor doesn't get the chance to retort before the fae swallows his words in an open-mouthed kiss, his fingers starting to move again. 

And then he pulls his fingers out, leaving Connor feeling strangely empty. He lifts himself up, meeting Connor's eyes. The desire melts between them, clear and unambiguous, but still Nines asks, "Ready?"

"Yes," Connor answers. "Please." 

The fae nods, and then lines himself up. Connor feels something pushing at his entrance, and he tries not to tense— 

"I'm here, Connor. I'm here," and that's all it takes for Connor to surrender himself, throwing every ounce of trust into the being before him.

_ "Connor,"  _ comes a whisper, calling him somewhere deep, and he shudders, even as his flesh parts for Nines's dick, as Nines presses deeper, and deeper, and deeper, and Connor can't—he can't—how much  _ more— _

"Breathe, Connor." 

He takes a gasping breath, realizing that he's fisting the sheets with one hand, and squeezing Nines's hand in a death grip in another. He can feel Nines  _ inside  _ him, so, so deep, and tears are starting to build in his eyes as he pries them open to take a look. 

He sees—Nines, bending over him, one hand pressing Connor's to the sheets, and the other on his hip. Leverage for driving himself deeper, probably. He sees the brilliant glow of those beautiful eyes, and the intent look he gives Connor, mouth parted, breathing slightly labored. He sees Nines's wings spread out behind him, quivering, casting him in an ethereal glow. 

"Alright?" Nines murmurs, hand lifting up to thumb away the tears that are suddenly trailing down Connor's face. 

"Y-yes, just… a second, please," he manages. 

Nines hums in acknowledgement, sliding his hand back down to Connor's side while his body adjusts to the feeling of Nines in him. Before long, Connor murmurs an "okay," and Nines nods, before his grip tightens. He pulls his hips back a bit, and Connor feels the drag inside him—and then he presses back in slowly, pulling a low groan from Connor. 

_ Is this okay?  _ Nines asks, again.

_ Yes. Keep going, please… _

Nines continues at his slow pace, and it's so much. So much, but  _ not enough— _ and Nines's breath catches, before he starts going  _ faster. _

Connor gasps at every thrust, and he's sure that if Nines were human, Connor would be crushing the hand in his grip. But Nines only squeezes back, making quiet little hums as he meets Connor's skin over and over, eyes half-lidded, wings fluttering softly. Connor reaches for him, "Please, please please  _ Nines—"  _ and the fae obliges, crashing his lips to Connor's. 

The movement presses Nines deeper, somehow, and his dick drags inside Connor in a way that makes him cry out—it's enough for him to see stars, flickering lights blinking into his vision. Or maybe that's faery dust, with how much Nines's wings are fluttering. 

Nines swallows his air, and Connor's dick twitches where it's pressed in between them. He can't even form words anymore, just,  _ Nines, Nines, Nines, _ echoing in his mind between his begging of,  _ harder, faster _ .

The fae slides his lips down to Connor's neck, and he adjusts his grip on Connor's back before he snaps his hips back and rams in. Connor gives a choked cry, back arching, hips jerking in a staccato rhythm to meet Nines's thrusts. Connor can feel Nines’s labored breaths on his neck as the fae noses at his collar, and he turns his head to give better access.

It feels like he's getting too much and too little air, as he gasps and shakes and sobs, clutching the back of Nines's shirt. He feels like he's being split apart, and completed with something that fills in all the gaps. It's so much. But it's Nines, it's Nines, and he wants this. Connor wants to be  _ his,  _ he wants to be so completely filled with him that he loses himself. He wants to be  _ marked.  _

Nines's hips stutter, stopping while he's buried to the hilt, and he lifts himself up. Connor blinks up at him, breaths coming in heaving gasps. "Connor," Nines says breathlessly. "Do you realize what you're asking?" 

"All yours," Connor mumbles, trying to pull him close again. "I want… to be all yours." 

He can feel Nines's dick twitch inside him, as Nines's eyes flick to Connor's neck and back to his face. He can feel the echo of— _ desire,  _ of— _ I could keep him safe.  _ Connor knows, in that moment, that Nines wants it, too. Wants to  _ take _ him—but even so, the fae hesitates. "Connor… this can't be undone. Not easily."

"I figured. I don't mind. You make me feel…" 

Safe.

Loved.

Whole.

Nines's eyelids flutter, and he closes his eyes, breathing deeply. "Alright," he murmurs. "Alright, Connor Anderson. Arkait," Connor shivers, "You will be  _ mine."  _ He pulls his hips back, and slams them in, making Connor's breath hitch, a gasp torn from him. Nines fists the hair at the back of Connor's head, pulling himself down to plunge his tongue into Connor's open mouth. 

_ No one else is allowed to touch you this way.  _ The words in his mind are searing, almost, burning with a sudden possessiveness, now unbridled. Connor moans, blinking tears from his eyes as he tries to hold Nines's gaze, as every thrust from the fae makes him and the entire bed frame shake with the force of it, as he grows dizzy from the white-hot pleasure and the lack of air.  _ No one but me.  _ The fae pulls away from his mouth, tongue dragging from the inside of Connor's mouth to his lips, then down the side of his jaw, and then down his neck. "Mine," he hisses.

"Yours," Connor confirms, as he greedily gulps for air, still shaking from Nines's thrusts.  _ All yours. _

Nines groans, and he picks up his pace, slamming in harder, deeper. "N-nnh," Connor sounds, "Ah-hhm. N-nines, Ni-ah!" He cries out, as Nines hits  _ that spot _ inside him. 

And then fae opens his mouth, breath cool against heated skin, and Connor feels the drag of those dangerous points. "I, hah, Ni-ines, p-please," Connor sobs. 

_ I'm here,  _ he answers, and bites down at the same time he thrusts back in.

A lot of things happen at once. A broken cry is torn from Connor's throat as the pain mixes with the pleasure, as he's driven,  _ thrown, _ suddenly, over the peak. He spills all over their shirts, but the wetness barely registers in his mind. Nines moans, clutching Connor's hand and the back of his neck, and Connor feels Nines's dick pulse inside him.

Only for a moment, though—his back arches into Nines's body, a soundless scream caught in his throat—he's hit with such an overwhelming sensation that he can't breathe, he can't think, he can't, he  _ can't— _

He blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor finally getting some action h a  
> and yeah. he's absolutely knocked out.


	6. Quiescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment, after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3513

Connor wakes up slowly. He feels… like he's floating, or drifting, or something, suspended somewhere a thousand miles from the earth. 

He feels wrapped up in something familiar and comfortable, something safe. He doesn't realize his eyes are open until he slowly slides them open and closed for probably the fifth or sixth time. 

There's a pressure loosely curled around him, a weight at his back. It takes a moment for him to piece the observations together—Nines. 

He glances down, noting Nines's wings draped over him almost limply. After a moment of things not sticking together in his brain, he shifts to take stock of himself. He's in his pajamas, fully dressed. So is Nines. He's sore, a bit, down there. Not as much as he might've expected. He wonders if Nines healed him there, too.

More noticeable is the pull of pain on the junction of his neck and shoulder—wrapped in bandages. Connor hisses softly at the sensation. While a part of him knows there's no way he can angle his head to see it, he still tries—and catches sight of Nines's peaceful face.

It clicks. Nines is  _ asleep.  _ He's never asleep. The fae's mouth is parted just slightly, revealing the points of his teeth. His antlers have grown to their full length again, pressed just against the headboard, and his wings shift minutely with every slow breath. 

Huh. Maybe… the whole thing was a lot for Nines, too. 

When Connor tries to turn around to face Nines more fully, though, the fae hums, grip tightening, and his eyes flutter open to meet Connor's gaze. They stare at each other for a moment. "I fell asleep," Nines comments. He sounds bemused. 

This time, when Connor turns around, Nines lets him. Connor pulls a hand up to frame the fae's face, "Yeah, you did," and then lightly drags his fingers through the hair until he reaches the back of his neck. Nines hums, closing his eyes. "You okay?" 

Nines blinks his eyes open at Connor again. "I believe I was a little low on energy. Our intimacy may have induced a stronger sense of lethargy afterwards as a result." 

"Low…" Connor frowns. "You get energy from nature, right?"

"Mhm…" Nines trails a hand up Connor's back.

"Have you been starving yourself to stay with me? You've been here for a while now." 

"The effect is not terribly significant," Nines murmurs. "Some tiredness. There is still some natural energy here—just significantly less. I remain fully capable of tearing a lesser being from limb to limb."

Connor snorts. "Fantastic," he says dryly, pulling his forehead to Nines's chest. They stay like that for a bit, Nines still trailing his hand across Connor's back. "Hey," Connor mumbles, "If you have to go for a bit to take care of yourself, you should." 

"Mmm." Connor feels the vibrations where he's pressed against Nines's chest. "I don't wish to leave your presence." 

And in all honesty, Connor doesn't want him to go, either. "We can go to the park today? You seemed to like it there."

"Hmmh. Yes…" Nines's hand trails up to Connor's neck, ghosting over his bandages, lightly resting over a particular spot. 

The mark. Surprisingly, the contact doesn't hurt all that much—it almost feels like Connor's earlier haze is rolling through him, again… 

"Does it hurt?" The fae asks. 

"Hmmm? Oh. A bit," Connor mumbles.

"I see…" Nines slides his hand down Connor's shoulder. "It will take a few days for it to heal fully," he murmurs. "It may leave a scar afterwards, but the true mark is on your soul." 

And isn't that a thought. Connor truly belongs to Nines, now. It makes a shiver run down his spine, and he curls his arms around Nines's waist. 

The hand on Connor's shoulder moves to his head, and Nines’s fingers drag pleasantly through his hair. Connor sighs softly at the sensation. "Is it… truly alright?" Nines asks haltingly. "I fear… perhaps I acted rashly. Perhaps my logic was too clouded by our passion at that moment…"

Connor pulls back, meeting Nines's eyes. "I don't regret anything about last night," he says. "Do you?"

"No. No," Nines shakes his head, "not at all. I simply… I am glad you do not."

"Mm," Connor hums. He runs his thumb across the softness of Nines's shirt. "Did you like it? Um," he presses his face to Nines's neck, "fucking me."

Nines laughs softly. "Quite different from the reverse. Both are very enjoyable, but I do believe I find the sight of you writhing underneath me very… pleasing."

"Thanks?" Connor squeaks. 

"You seem to prefer receiving, and I don't have any issues with providing that." Nines tilts Connor's head up. "Though perhaps my release was a bit too much for you?"

The reminder of Nines releasing  _ his  _ seed in Connor serves well to make his face burn. "I… I don't mind it…"

"You lost consciousness nearly instantly."

_ " _ Only  _ nearly _ . I still felt it. It was… amazing. You're amazing." 

Nines blinks. And then the corners of his lips lift in a slight smile, before he leans in close to press a kiss to Connor's forehead. It makes something in him flutter. "Thank you, Connor. Shall we get you something to eat?"

"Oh. Probably." Neither of them move, though, and it takes a few seconds for Nines to raise an eyebrow at him. "Don't wanna move," Connor mumbles. "Comfy."

Nines sighs, exasperated. He brushes his hand through Connor's hair again before starting to extricate himself. Connor half-heartedly tries to cling to him, but offers barely any resistance when the fae pries his hands off and takes Connor's hands in his own. "Come now, Connor. Can you stand?"

Oh. That is a good question. "Guess I'll find out." He lets Nines pull him up and out of bed. When his feet hit the floor, though, and he tries to stand, he's not expecting how much like jelly his legs feel. He stumbles, only spared from kissing the floor by Nines's steady grip, and ends up kissing Nines's chest instead with an "oomph." 

"Are you alright?"

Connor moves his hands up to Nines's biceps, stabilizing himself on the fae as he gets his legs properly under him. "Okay. I'm okay, just need a second." Now that he's expecting the feeling, it's easier to support himself, and he carefully slides his hands back down to Nines's hands. "Okay," he says, looking up. 

Nines is watching him carefully, hands held out, ready to catch him. Connor is so inexplicably moved by that thought that he finds a smile forming on his face. Nines blinks, mouth parting slightly. 

"Thank you, Nines." For being here. 

Nines blinks again, and Connor thinks his eyes soften slightly. "Of course." 

They part, then. Nines goes to the kitchen, while Connor cleans up in the bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he notices that he looks  _ healthy. _ Vibrant, even. He runs his fingers across the bandages around his neck, and he suddenly has the urge to peel them off to see Nines's mark for himself. 

He glances to the bathroom door. Nines would probably disapprove, but… Connor finds himself unbuttoning his shirt anyways, sliding the fabric away from his shoulders and leaving his shirt bunched around his elbows. He fiddles with the bandage clasps, eyes down, before he jumps at the brush of cool fingers on his shoulder. He looks back up, alarmed, and sees Nines in the mirror. Standing behind him.

"How did you get in here?" Connor blurts.

"I stepped through the fabric of spacetime." Nines caresses the bare skin of his shoulder. Casually possessive. Before Connor can ask why Nines came in, he already answers: "You were thinking of me."

"Oh," Connor says faintly. "Do you always know when I think of you?"

"It is stronger now. Due to the mark and our coupling. It will fade in intensity over time, but even then, if you call for me in your mind, I will be able to hear it."

"Oh." 

Nines pushes a finger under the bandage. "Do you wish to see?"

Right. That's why he's in this situation. "Y-yes." And then Nines is unwrapping the cloth from him, gathering the strip in his hand. 

Soon enough, the last of it falls away, and he can see it. The mark. A neat crescent of punctures. Only one side of it is visible to him, but he figures the other side is similar. It's still raw, and scabbing—he jumps when Nines suddenly lathes his tongue across it, and Connor doesn't expect it when he feels not pain, but a hazy sensation that makes him inhale sharply, knees buckling, and slump into Nines's arms. 

"Holy shit," he says breathily, watching himself in the mirror. "Will that happen every time?"

"I expect this effect on you will diminish, as well," Nines answers, propping him back on his feet. "Are you satisfied?"

Connor blinks. And then, "Oh. Right. Yeah." Seeing it. 

Nines hums, and then starts wrapping the bandage back around him. Once he's done, Nines rests his hands on Connor's shoulders for a few seconds. "I will return to the kitchen," he says, and as soon as Connor blinks, he's gone. 

Convenient. Connor wishes he could do that. 

He finishes up in the bathroom, and then throws on some proper clothes for the sake of their potential outing. He elects for a soft green turtleneck sweater—it covers all of his bandages—and some plain black pants. 

Breakfast is eggs and toast, which is nice. Connor finishes all of it, and Nines looks pleased that he does. 

And then they make their way to the door, Nines's fae traits receding into humanity, Connor putting on his coat. As soon as Connor's hand reaches the doorknob, though, he hesitates. 

It's pretty late in the morning. Past ten. There'd be more people… 

Nines slides his hand into Connor's, and it almost feels like something settles in him. "Right by your side, Connor." 

"Okay," Connor breathes, and opens the door.

Just as he thought, there are more people. He fluctuates between uneasy from the activity and reassured by Nines's presence. While he logically  _ knows  _ there shouldn't be any way for someone to tell what's happened, he still feels like people will just look at him and know. 

_ Any being that would have been able to would first know that you are mine.  _

Somehow, that eases his mind, enough for him to stay calm by the time they reach the park. Connor can see Nines visibly relax as they approach—he can almost feel it, too, and he finds himself preternaturally calm, like  _ he _ is also getting a soak from the proximity to nature. 

They amble through the park at a sedate pace, crunching across fallen leaves. Hands interlaced, gravitating closer, wandering with no destination in mind. They pass by a few others, but soon, it's only the two of them in the embrace of the trees around them. 

A bench comes into sight, and Connor leads them to it. They sit down, bodies pressed together, facing the water of the undisturbed pond. 

This might be the same bench, Connor thinks, as the one he was sitting on when Nines came to him as a cat. The memory makes him pull his hand from Nines's grasp up to his hair, gently raking his fingers through the soft strands. Nines only glances at him for a moment before his eyes fall shut. A few more seconds, and Nines's head finds its way to Connor's shoulder, and Connor curls his arm around Nines to accommodate. 

Connor continues toying with the strands, mind wandering. "Nines?" he asks, voice small.

"Mmm?" 

"What does it mean for me to be yours? To have your mark?"

Nines exhales slowly. "It can mean any number of things," he says slowly, words tinged by the haze of comfort he seems to fall into whenever Connor plays with his hair. "From a factual standpoint, you already know: I will always be able to find you. I will feel if you are in danger." One of his arms slides up Connor's back. "In addition… I can very easily make you submit to me. Much like this morning." The hand trails up to the junction of Connor's neck and shoulder, ghosting over the bite.

Right. When Connor went weak-kneed and all, huh. 

"You have surrendered your entire self to me," Nines murmurs, "Yet you do not fear me at all? If I had malevolent intentions, there would be little you could do to stop me from using you any way I wished." 

"I'm not scared. You won't hurt me." 

A pause. "Where does your trust come from?"

Connor shrugs as much as he can, with Nines on his right shoulder and a hand on his left. "It just feels right? I dunno… I just… the more I knew about you, the closer I wanted to get. It feels like hurtling towards something, but I can't be afraid… not when I know you'll be there to catch me."

Nines hums, long, drawn-out. "You are truly… one of a kind," he murmurs, and turns to press his face to Connor's neck. 

It makes him shiver. Connor lets his eyes slide shut. "You are, too…" 

"I know."

Connor probably should have expected that by now. He snorts, opening his eyes again, and feels—Nines smiling against his neck? That might be it. Connor pauses in his ministrations, then. Is Nines… messing with him? 

"Perhaps," he whispers, breath tickling Connor's skin. 

Connor huffs, withdrawing his hand to rest on Nines's shoulder instead. Nines makes a mildly displeased hum. Serves him right. "How about the less objective things?" Connor asks, instead of responding to that. 

"Hmph." Nines turns his head to face the water. "What do you wish for it to be, Connor? When you said that you wanted to be mine, what is it that you desired?"

Connor blinks. What  _ he  _ desired? "I…" He fiddles with the seam of Nines's shirt. "I don't know if I can put it into words. I just felt that…" He trails off, lapsing into silence for a few seconds. "I felt like I could be safe to be  _ me _ with you? And I wanted… I wanted to just… be with you. Always."

He feels Nines shift, and then—fingers sliding in between his, squeezing firmly. "Then it means that I will always be by your side."

Connor squeezes back. There's a feeling in him he can't name, but it's rising and freeing and exhilarating and overwhelming all at once. It makes him press his lips to Nines's hair, it makes him close his eyes and think of none of his troubles, his anxieties. Of nothing but Nines, and it's enough to fill all the nervous crannies in his mind. He's calm here, the sounds of nature and their breathing the only things in his ears. He's… content. 

He doesn't think he falls asleep. But he definitely isn’t fully aware, and thus startled considerably when his phone starts ringing. Nines sits up, letting him grab his phone—it's his dad. Connor picks up. "Hello?"

_ "Hey, Connor. Just wanted to check in with you, it's almost lunch already. Everything alright?" _

Connor wonders if he should tell his dad that Nines fucked him and marked him on the very night after he left. 

… Maybe another day. 

"I'm… good. I… I think I'm feeling a lot better than… a while ago."

_ "Really? That's—that's great. Proud of ya, kid." _

Connor shuffles his feet. "Thanks, Dad."

_ "So, uh… how are things going with Nines?"  _

"Nines?" Connor glances over to the fae, who is unabashedly watching him and probably listening in. "We went to the park today so he could soak in nature. Did you know fae can just absorb natural energy like that? I wish I could do that. Eating is inconvenient."

A snort.  _ "Sure is, Connor. Part of being a squishy human. And yeah, I was aware—was kinda wondering, actually, since more powerful fae need more energy. He's, uh… he's alright?" _

"Your concern is unnecessary, human. I am aware of my limits," Nines informs him. 

_ "... I probably should have guessed he was there. Also, I dunno about you, Connor, but that sounds like a load of bull." _

Nines narrows his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You are much bolder when not in my presence, it seems." 

"You two," Connor holds a hand to his face. "But still. How much energy do you need, Nines?"

"I could come here for an hour or so a week."

Connor nods. "Uh-huh. So that's your minimum?"

"... Not my bare minimum," Nines mutters. "I could survive on less."

"Mhm." He's not having it. "How much do you  _ like,  _ though? What's your equivalent of eating healthy?" 

Nines sighs. "With the level of this location's natural forces? Sitting here for a few hours every day."

That gives Connor a thought. "What about the fae realm? Your forest?" 

Nines blinks slowly. "An hour there would last me a week or so here. The more the better, of course…" 

"Neat," Connor says, "We should go sometime." 

A beat. 

_ "'We,' Connor?"  _ Connor can almost see his dad's eyes narrowing. 

"Yeah." Neither of them want to be apart, after all. "I never got a chance to see his place, come to think of it. He's always at mine." Connor looks at Nines. "Do you even have a house or anything?"

"I suppose I do." Connor straightens at that, looking imploringly at Nines. The fae frowns slightly. "Hm."

_ "He's giving you the eyes, isn't he." _

Nines blinks. "Is this a regular occurrence?"

_ "Sometimes he gets excited about things. And then he whips those out." _

"I'm right here, you know."

_ "I'm aware."  _ A sigh.  _ "Whatever. Is it safe for him to come with you?" _

"Yes, so long as he stays with me. You realize he has come to my realm before, yes?"

_ "Jesus Christ, Connor, you didn't even summon him, or something?" _

"Uh… no?"

A long-suffering sigh.  _ "I can't tell if you're lucky or unlucky." _

Nines leans in a little closer. "I will attempt to find a day during which the time dilation in the fae realm is in our favor. If we are fortunate, perhaps only minutes will pass here before we return."

"I'll get to see your house then?" Connor asks, beaming at Nines. 

Nines blinks at him, looking almost dazed. Dazzled? "Yes, you can see my… house, then." 

_ "Okay. Great. I'll leave you two lovebirds to it. Great talking."  _ Some shuffling, and then,  _ "One more thing. Think you might be up for coming to the station anytime soon? Think the others miss you. Even Gavin's asked after you."  _

Oh. "Um…" Connor squeezes Nines's hand. He squeezes back. "Maybe sometime…" he answers vaguely. 

_ "Hey, there's no pressure. Just—if you think it'll help, yeah?" _

"Mm. Yeah. Maybe sometime this week. Can Nines come with me?" 

_ "... If you want, I guess. But he's gonna have to declare that he's a higher being at the reception. We have scanners and stuff, too. Security and all." _

Connor takes a moment to think about that. "Will… everyone know what he is?" 

_ "He'll get a fancy visitor's pass so people know not to pick a bone with him."  _ Dad pauses.  _ "If you're worried about people finding out what… happened, you probably shouldn't bring him. We've got a lot of smart people here, even if it isn't obvious from the start."  _

"Oh," Connor whispers, voice small. "I… um…" He runs through his options. He could go without Nines—nope, the mere thought makes a sharp anxiety run through him. He could… not go. But he misses Tina's friendly smile, Chris's easy amicability, Jeffrey's gruffness. And he wonders how Gavin's doing. He'd like to see the detective again. Thank him in person. And Connor kind of… wants to introduce Nines to him. He's curious.

Then… is he okay with others  _ knowing?  _ He feels like he's been stained. Painted in a dirty ink he can't wash out, even if he can cover it. But he's also just. Tired. And he realizes—he doesn't want to hide it. He doesn't want to hide anything, when it comes down to it. The truth will come out, and there's something liberating about that. 

_ "You alright, kid?"  _ Dad's voice is gentle. 

"I'm okay. I want him to come with me." Connor looks up to Nines. "If you're willing."

The fae nods, rubbing a hand soothingly on Connor’s thigh. "Of course." 

_ "Okay. If you're sure."  _

"I'm sure. See you later, then?"

_ "Yeah. Take care, Connor." _

"Thanks. You too." The line clicks, and Connor returns his phone to his pocket. "Wanna stay here longer?" he asks Nines. 

"Hmm. It is almost lunch for you, no?" 

"It's only twelve-ish. I've eaten at two plenty of times. How about another hour?" Nines purses his lips, and Connor presses more. "You make sure  _ I _ eat properly. So you have to… eat? Absorb? Properly, too."

Nines's mouth twitches. In amusement, Connor thinks. "Very well."

So Connor leans on Nines's shoulder—moments later, Nines rests his head on Connor's—and lets himself drift into semi-awareness yet again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when Connor pulls out the 🥺 he means business


	7. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Nines visit the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 3271

The days pass all too quickly, the end of the week rapidly approaching. As promised, Connor makes sure to call every day, but it's only when his dad visits one night that Connor takes the opportunity to inform his dad of his… current situation with Nines. 

Dad fixes him with a  _ look.  _ "I thought he already marked you as part of the deal or whatever." Connor shifts awkwardly on the couch, glancing back at Nines where the fae sits behind him. "So you're saying that he didn't, and then you went and willingly  _ let _ him do that to you?"

"Yeah," Connor nods matter-of-factly. "I wanted to. He wanted to. We… it felt right."

"Are you…" Dad puts his hands on Connor's shoulders. "This is for the rest of your life. Maybe beyond. How can you be so sure?" 

Connor reaches over to Nines, threading their hands together. Nines returns his grip tightly. "I suppose we'll find out what happens. But I've made my choice," he meets Nines's eyes, "And whatever happens, I don't think I'll regret it."

Nines hums, tilting his head slightly, before lifting their interlaced hands and brushing his lips against the back of Connor's hand, eyes slipping shut as he does so. When he opens his eyes again and lowers their hands, he meets Dad's eyes and says, "I will do what I must to ensure his happiness and well-being, Hank Anderson." 

"Ugh." Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But if you're gonna be… this, you can at least call me Hank. I feel like someone's walking over my grave whenever you say my name like that."

The corner of Nines's mouth lifts in something almost like a smirk. "Oh, I know."

"Ah, fuck you."

Nines tilts his head further. "I am only interested in Connor as a partner in such—"

Connor snorts, face heating, as Dad groans,  _ "That's not what I meant and you know it!"  _

He's glad his dad doesn't seem to be concerned that Nines might smite him off the face of the earth if he's a little rude, now. It makes things interesting. 

_ I'm glad you find it amusing,  _ Nines murmurs in his mind. 

_ You're not going to hurt him or anything if he offends you, right?  _

_ Considering how much he means to you, no.  _ Nines grins slightly.  _ But I may make him squirm a bit.  _

"Hey," Dad calls. "I don't think I like that smug look. Are you talking telepathically again?"

Connor huffs, sheepish. "Sorry, Dad." 

His dad spends the night and goes off to work once Connor shakes him awake at 8:30 AM, to his dad's chagrin. 

"Five more minutes," he groans. "Or maybe five more hours, fuck…" 

Connor insistently pats his dad's face. "You're going to be late." 

"Fine, fine, stop slapping me, geez… How the hell did I raise such a morning person?"

"I'm only patting your face.  _ Gently."  _ Connor knows how to slap. He's done it before, when his dad was passed out on the floor… 

He shakes off the memory. Dad's better now. Much better. 

Dad stumbles through his morning routine, and it's not long before he's at the door. "You don't want to come with me today?" he asks. "It's Friday already."

Connor stills. "I…" He glances back at Nines, sitting on the couch. The fae tilts his head. Connor looks back at his dad. "Maybe later… I'll think about it."

"Hey, no pressure. Whenever you're ready, okay? You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." 

"Okay." Connor darts in for a quick hug, pulling back before Dad can react. "See you later. Maybe soon."

Dad blinks. Smiles slightly. "Yeah, see you."

Connor spends the next few hours pressed up against Nines's side, alternating between writing on his tablet, staring at nothing as his nerves buzz with anxiety, and drifting into preternatural calm when Nines cards fingers through his hair or presses gently on the now-healed mark. 

Until he finally cracks, tossing his tablet onto the couch and standing up. "Fuck it," he says boldly. "I'm gonna go right now. How bad can it be?" Frankly, the anticipation is probably doing him worse than actually doing it will. Maybe. He turns to meet Nines's eyes. "Will you…?"

"Of course, Connor." He stands, sliding his hand into Connor's, the fae traits he'd allowed to form receding into his human appearance once more. 

Connor smiles through his nervousness, before grabbing his phone from the table. "I guess I'll call an autotaxi?"

"Mm. That won't be necessary. I can transport us directly, if you prefer."

Connor blinks. "You can? Both of us?" He gets a nod in return. "Neat."

"Are you ready, then?" Nines asks. 

"Uh… Sure?"

Nines pulls Connor to his chest, pulling a startled squeak from him. And then, there's something shifting, distorting—wavelengths fragmenting in the peripherals of his eyes. It feels like an instant and an eternity. Connor blinks, and then he's suddenly rooted in reality again, the sounds of the city filling his ears. 

He peels himself away from Nines's chest before taking in their surroundings. They're a few paces away from the entrance to the DPD station. Surprisingly, no one seems alarmed that two people just appeared out of nowhere. 

_ I had an obfuscation aura active.  _

Connor raises an eyebrow.  _ So you're bad at pretending to be human because you're used to magicking their attention away?  _

Nines's eyes narrow.  _ I could be a convincing human if I wanted to.  _

_ Sure, but do you really want to?  _

Nines blinks. "I suppose I never found it necessary." He tilts his head towards the station. "Shall we?" 

"... Sure." Connor turns to the entrance. He takes a deep breath. Things will be fine. Everything will be fine. He's okay. Nines is here with him. 

"If at any point you find it necessary," Nines murmurs, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder, "I can immediately take you home."

"Okay," Connor breathes. He takes Nines's hand from his shoulder, and without further ado, strides inside, pulling the fae with him. There's a soft beep as they enter—the scanner, maybe? 

"There was the presence of a magical device," Nines confirms. 

Connor hums, walking up to Rey—she works at the reception here almost every time Connor comes. As he approaches, she looks up from her screen. And then she blinks, shaking her head slightly, as her eyes flick between Connor and Nines.  _ Hey, Rey,  _ Connor greets. He always amuses himself a bit with the rhyme, even if it's only in his head when he signs. 

"Connor? It's been a while, um." She glances back down to her screen. "Who's this? The scanner detected a high level of magical energy when the two of you walked through the door."

"I may be referred to as Nines." He tilts his head. "I am what your kind refers to as a 'higher being.' A Greater Fae, to be precise." 

Rey's eyes widen. "O-oh. Excuse me." She clears her throat, before straightening—noticeably slipping back into her professional persona. "Are you aware of the station's policy for higher beings to wear identifiable badges?"

"I am, yes."

"I presume you're here with Connor—" she glances at him—"to visit Lieutenant Anderson?" 

Nines glances at Connor.  _ That's what I usually get the pass for,  _ Connor confirms mentally.  _ It's more of a formality at this point.  _

"Hm. Yes, that does seem to be the case." 

Rey nods and turns back to her terminal. She types something on the keyboard before leaning over slightly to grab the newly-registered visitor's passes from a dispenser. One is a dark blue, transparent plastic with holographic white text, and the other is a brighter red with white text. 

Connor grabs the dark blue one—labeled with CONNOR ANDERSON | VISITOR—and gives the red one, labeled with NINES | VISITOR | HIGHER BEING, to Nines. The fae watches as Connor loops the cord around his neck, taking only a moment to mirror the action. 

"Okay, head on in whenever you like." Rey gestures towards the entrance to the bullpen. 

_ Thank you,  _ Connor signs. 

Rey smiles. "No problem." 

The gate to the bullpen gives another beep as they enter. No one really pays attention to them at first, giving Connor ample time to catch sight of his dad hunched over his desk. Connor makes a beeline towards him, dragging Nines behind him by the wrist. 

A few officers notice Connor and move to wave at him, only to furrow their brows in confusion when they take in the sight of Nines and his pass. Connor waves back quickly before moving on. His hands are sweaty. It's unpleasant. 

He startles his dad with a tap on his shoulder. "Wh—oh, Connor, you're here? Nines too, huh." 

Connor nods. 

"Hey, Connor!" That's Chris's voice. Connor looks behind him to see the officer approaching. He falters at seeing Nines's face. "Oh, uh, hi?" He glances down to see Nines's pass, blinking for a moment after. "Uh, nice to meet you." He bows slightly. "Name's Chris. Chris Miller."

"Do all humans give their names so freely these days?" Nines comments dryly. "You may call me Nines."

Chris laughs nervously. "Uh, yeah…"

"Aw, Connor finally visits and no one tells me?" Tina slides up behind Chris. "Connor, what'd you get yourself into now? And who's your new doppelganger?" 

Connor finds himself unable to formulate a response. He lifts his hands, and then just… holds them in the air, staring at them. He can't exactly deny that he didn't get into anything. 

Haha, he literally got  _ into  _ something…

The thought curdles his stomach. Nines quickly slides a hand around his waist. "He has only just arrived. Nothing that is necessary for you to know. I may be referred to as Nines."

Both Chris and Tina's eyes go to where Nines is holding him. "Are," Tina starts, "are you two together?"

"In a sense."

"Guys," Dad calls. "Give them a break, they just got here."

Bless his dad's heart. Tina and Chris both give their apologies before shuffling away, easing some of the squeezing pressure on his chest.  _ Thanks, Dad,  _ Connor signs. 

"Yeah, no problem." Dad glances around, before signing back,  _ Are you feeling okay?  _

Connor shifts on his feet.  _ I think so? Is Gavin anywhere? _

"Gavin?" Dad blinks, mildly surprised. "Uh, I think he might be out for lunch. He'll probably be back soon." He pauses for a moment. "Have you eaten yet?"

_ No?  _ He tilts his head slightly, smiling sheepishly.

"That's not the kind of question you answer with another question." Dad sighs. "Gavin's probably at the usual coffee shop he goes to. I can probably ask him to bring something for you if you want." 

Connor frowns.  _ I wouldn't want to impose.  _

At that, Dad gives a loud snort. "He owes me plenty, anyways." Connor hums lowly, not finding the heart to refuse. 

He'll have to pay Gavin back later, then. 

Connor looks over to the empty desk opposite his dad's—he sits there a lot of the time, but with Nines here… 

_ You could sit on my lap,  _ Nines's mental voice filters into his mind as the fae squeezes his waist slightly.  _ Standing would suffice as well. I do not tire the way humans do.  _

Connor's face warms. Nines huffs amusedly in response. "I will stand, then." He pulls Connor over to the chair, pressing him down to sit, before stepping back and standing with perfect poise. Dad raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment any further. 

Well. Might as well try to get some writing done. Connor pulls out his phone and opens Docs, immediately picking up from where he left off. 

He lasts about ten minutes before he starts feeling like too many people are watching him. Every now and then, he'd sneak glances at his surroundings, and he feels like every time he catches at least one person looking his way. 

It's… fair. Not every day you get a higher being in the precinct, let alone one that looks just like someone you know. Still, it sets Connor on edge, and it isn't long before he stands in a sudden motion. 

"Connor? You okay?" Dad's watching him with a concerned expression. 

_ Too much,  _ he signs.  _ Break room.  _

"Okay," Dad says gently. "Do you want me to sit with you?"

Connor shakes his head.  _ It's okay. Besides…  _ he looks to Nines, who nods.

"I will accompany him." 

"Alright… I'll let Gavin know when he gets here, yeah?" 

Connor nods, and then doesn't waste another moment in hightailing to the break room, keeping his eyes on the floor, ignoring everything around him. Luckily, no one else is there, and Connor immediately sits in the furthest corner of the room. He grips his knees, eyes closed, and just— _ breathes.  _

He hears the sound of approaching steps, and then the shifting sounds of taking a seat. A careful touch lands on his arm—cool, familiar—and Connor leans over, pressing his weight against Nines. 

The fae's arm shifts to wrap around his shoulders, pulling Connor more snugly against his body. The pressure on his arm becomes a soothing motion, up and down, massaging away his anxiety. 

_ No one else can see us, Connor. It is only us here.  _

Connor nods. The physical ball of pressure in his chest has eased, if only slightly, and it's easier to breathe now. 

"Do you wish to go home?" Nines asks quietly. 

Connor shakes his head where it's pressed against Nines's shoulder. Not yet. He's okay. Not  _ good,  _ but  _ okay.  _

"Very well." 

He might have lost himself in the easy rhythm of Nines's breathing and his motions, because it doesn't seem like much time passes before he hears a call of, "Connor? You in here?"

Connor sits up, blinking his eyes open and looking towards the entrance to the break room—and meeting the eyes of Gavin. The detective is holding a bag, brows pinched, as he takes in the sight of Connor and Nines. 

Connor opens his mouth for a moment. And then he closes it, before signing,  _ Hello, Gavin.  _

"Hey…" Gavin approaches, pulling something wrapped in brown paper out of his bag. "Hank said you like breakfast sandwiches, so, uh." He offers the item.

_ Thank you,  _ Connor signs, before taking it. He puts it on the bench next to him.  _ And yes, I do. What's your Venmo?  _

Gavin snorts. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't much, maybe five dollars or so."

Hmm. He'll send it via phone number later, then. 

"So, um." Gavin steps back a bit, brushing his hands through his hair. "Hank said not to be surprised by the lookalike, but. He didn't mention you were a higher being," he remarks wryly. "I'm Gavin, in case you haven't figured it out."

"You may call me Nines," the fae returns. 

Gavin nods, shifting the weight on his feet back and forth. 

_ You probably have a lot of questions,  _ Connor signs.  _ You can ask.  _

The detective purses his lips. "I don't… if you're not comfortable with it…"

Connor sighs softly.  _ It's okay.  _ He slides his hand into Nines's free one, the one not hooked around his shoulders. He takes a deep breath. Focuses on the grounding touch. "It's okay," he says, very, very quietly. 

"Okay," Gavin murmurs. "Okay." He pulls up one of the chairs, sitting across from Connor and Nines. "How… how are you doing?"

"I'm. Getting better. Nines helped, a lot." 

Gavin's eyes flick to Nines's pass, before landing back on Connor. "What," he starts, carefully, "sort of relationship do the two of you have? Higher beings, well…" He trails off. 

At that, Nines pulls his hand up to the junction of Connor's neck and shoulder. Hovering right over the mark. Nines turns to brush his lips against Connor's temple, all the while keeping his eyes on Gavin. "He is mine." 

Gavin stiffens, eyes widening. "What," he says. 

"He marked me," Connor says. "I let him." 

"Connor." Gavin's voice is tight. "Connor, that's…  _ why?"  _

"I feel safe with him."

"Safe," Gavin repeats, slowly. Connor can see the gears turning in his head. 

Nines tightens his grip on Connor. "I won't let anyone else have him. Hurt him. He is  _ mine,  _ and mine alone." 

"Anyone else…" Gavin blinks slowly. "Nines, right? Did you ever say what you are?"

Connor answers for him. "Greater Fae." 

Gavin lifts a hand to cover his mouth. "Shit.  _ Shit… _ " His other hand lifts up to pull at his hair. "Hank's miraculous recovery. The… the body delivered to the precinct. That was…"

"My doing, yes," Nines fills in the blank.

"Did you—" Gavin grits his teeth, before switching to sign.  _ Did you sell yourself for Hank? Is that why he's helping you? Because he,  _ Gavin hesitates for a moment,  _ owns you now? _

Connor shakes his head rapidly, sliding his hand out of Nines's to sign.  _ The deal was for something else. I gave myself willingly. We're… we're.  _

Nines sighs, before lifting a hand to Connor's cheek and pulling him over gently—so they're face-to-face.  _ Can I kiss you?  _ He asks mentally. 

A blush creeps onto Connor's face, but he nods. Nines immediately dives in, pressing his lips firmly to Connor's. It's insistent—possessive, maybe. There's a hand at the back of his neck, gripping him, and Connor very nearly melts into the touch, sighing. Before it can get any more  _ improper _ for their setting, Nines pulls back, looking as unruffled as ever while Connor's left catching his breath. "Does that answer your question, Gavin Reed?" 

The detective gives a visible shudder. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath. And then he blinks, and says, "Fuck," louder. "... Are you fucking someone wearing your own face?"

Connor buries his face in his hands. He feels called out. 

"Wait, shit, I was kinda joking—seriously?" 

Connor progresses to pressing his burning face onto Nines's chest. Nines pats his back. He feels a little better. 

"Okay, you know what? It's 2038, I'm not gonna judge." A pause. "Much." 

Connor peeks over to narrow his eyes at Gavin, who only raises his hands in surrender. The detective lowers them after a moment, though. "Really, though. Are you sure you're okay with this? If you start having second thoughts, there's no way out." He pauses. "Well, there are some ways—"

Nines's grip tightens dangerously, and Connor sees his eyes narrow to slits. "How dare you," he says, lowly. "He has made his choice. And I, mine."

Gavin pales. Before the situation can escalate, though, Connor grabs Nines's arm. "Nines, it's fine," he says quickly. "He's just worried about me. Please don't smite him or anything?"

For a moment, Nines just looks at Connor, jaw clenching. Then he lets out a breath, sinking back. "Very well."

Connor looks back at Gavin. He's very pale. Connor shoots him a hesitant thumbs up, attempting a smile. 

The detective slouches in his seat. "Remind me not to piss off your feyfriend." He snorts. "Literally…" 

Oh, right. That's a term that can be used for a nonbinary partner… hm. "I'll… do my best," Connor returns. "I'll just, um, eat now?" Connor reaches for the wrapped sandwich next to him. 

Gavin nods, baring his teeth in something that might be like a smile. "Great. I’ll… get back to work." He wavers. "See you later?" 

"Mhm," Connor confirms. As Gavin stands to leave, though, he calls out, "Would you be okay with meeting outside of work sometime?" 

Gavin blinks, looking back at him. 

"I'd… be more comfortable elsewhere, maybe…" 

"Yeah—" Gavin says quickly. "Yeah, that's fine with me. Just let me know whenever, I guess." 

Connor smiles. "Thank you."

The detective mutters something in response, low enough that Connor can't catch it. And then he's gone, leaving Connor alone with Nines once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Ronnie was betaing the beginning part where Connor was letting Hank about what happened, she noted, "so basically this is like announcing your engagement to your parents"  
> and I was :0


	8. Possession (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go home and talk. And do a little more than just talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2320

Connor and Nines don't stay at the station for much longer after that. The fae is quiet, mostly, as Connor finishes his sandwich—bacon and eggs. Very nice. 

They emerge from the break room to return to the desk opposite his dad for a bit, but after finishing what he came here mostly to do, Connor doesn't have much of a reason to stay. 

Plus, Nines has been… well, Connor's not sure. His touches linger, just a bit, and he seems to be shooting threatening looks at anyone who so much as looks at Connor. 

(By threatening looks, Connor means that Nines stares at them until they get too unnerved.)

_ Want to head back?  _ Connor signs at him, and there's a barely noticeable loosening of the tension in Nines's stance as he gives a small nod. 

So Connor bids a farewell to his dad, then to Gavin—who still seems a little jumpy with Nines—and then a few quick waves to Tina and Chris and other familiar faces. They return the passes, step out the door. In a blink, the world  _ shifts,  _ and they're back in Connor's apartment. 

Connor immediately goes to his room and flops face-down on the bed, bunching up his blankets as he pulls them close to himself. 

The bed sinks as another weight joins him on the mattress. Neither of them say anything for a while as Connor breathes and flattens out the disturbed ripples in the lake of his mind. As he returns to equilibrium. 

Gavin probably knows now. And Connor is… surprisingly more okay with it than he thought he'd be. Lighter, maybe. Wasn't there something about how misery likes company? 

He's not sure about the others, but he guesses he'll see. 

Though… one thing is niggling in Connor's mind. He rolls over to see Nines—framed by the golden afternoon light filtering through the windows. "Why'd you get mad at Gavin?"

Something shifts. Nines tilts his head, just slightly. 

"You were asking me the same thing, more or less," Connor adds. 

Nines blinks slowly. "Perhaps," he says, "I simply did not want  _ him  _ to ask."

"Oh." Connor clutches the blankets. "Because…" 

Nines moves closer, bending over him. "I had no desire for him to entertain any belief that he could take you from me." He lifts a hand to brush against Connor's cheek. "If you truly wish to leave, then at least…" Nines sighs. "Let it be by your own will."

Connor grabs Nines's hand, and then reaches up with his other to latch onto the back of the fae's neck, pulling himself up. Up into a kiss, as he presses his lips chastely against Nines's. 

He pulls back, meeting Nines's eyes. "I won't. I'm yours." 

And then Nines is kissing him again, pushing him back, bracketing him against the sheets. Nines's lips part against his, and they're breathing each other's air, tasting each other. Their breaths are loud in the quiet, the sounds of their kissing being the only other noise Connor can hear. 

Connor wraps his arms and legs around Nines, pulling the fae closer, close enough that Connor can grind his hips against Nines's—and feel the hardness already growing in the fae's pants. 

He moans at the contact, though Nines only lets out a shaky breath, hands shifting to fist at Connor's hair.  _ Is this okay? Are you okay?  _ and  _ yes, yes, yes,  _ then Nines grinds down, too, and Connor needs to break apart from the kiss to breathe. 

Nines shifts to nosing at his neck, and—he's gently pressing his teeth to where the mark is, and Connor feels himself go nearly limp as a wave of  _ something,  _ washes over his mind, a balm on his tension and anxiety that doesn't make him any less horny. "Nines," he sighs, drawing his hands down Nines's back, slipping under the black cloth to slide against cool skin. 

There's a spark of something like frustration— _ clothes— _ to which Connor responds,  _ everything. Everything's fine,  _ and then  _ are you sure?  _

_ Yes…  _ Connor trusts him. 

Instead of pulling back to take off their clothes like Connor expects, there's a soft blue glow and a cool sensation like water against his skin. Within seconds, he and Nines are skin-to-skin, completely naked.

Connor doesn't have time to wonder about that when Nines grinds down again, and Nines's dick is surprisingly  _ slick _ against his, and now Connor's wondering something else. Nines chuckles voicelessly, breath tickling his neck. "I adjusted my physiology to suit our needs." 

He takes a moment to process that thought before it goes straight to his cock. "Fuck," Connor whispers breathlessly. 

"That is the idea," Nines says, pressing lips to the side of Connor's face. 

Connor laughs, and then turns so Nines is kissing Connor's lips instead. 

The fae wraps his arms around Connor—and then lifts him, surprising him enough to break the kiss and cling to Nines before he's laid down in the center of the bed. 

It's at this point that he notices—as Nines leans back, straddling his legs—"You can shift, if you want," Connor says. "To your fae form."

Nines tilts his head. The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," Connor breathes, shameless. 

Nines transforms right before his eyes, antlers poking out of his hair, wings unfurling from his back, colors desaturating into his blue-grays. His eyes narrow to slits, and his teeth, where Connor can see them between his parted lips, sharpen into an array of points. The rays of afternoon light through the partially-drawn curtains cast his features in stripes of gold. 

So beautiful. So, so beautiful. And Connor is all his. 

"Yes," Nines confirms, an echo of Connor only moments ago. He runs his hand across Connor's bare chest, caressing the exposed skin there, across his arms, back up to his shoulders, then down his sides, to his hips. Connor melts under the touch, breathing in, breathing out, eyes opening and closing as he wavers between a floating bliss and persistent arousal. Nines shifts back slightly then, so he can lay one hand on Connor's chest and the other, suddenly, on his dick. 

Connor jerks his hips up, breath catching in his throat, and Nines presses down harder on his chest. The fae watches his cock with interest, head tilted, as it twitches in his hands. He licks his lips, just a bit—a black tip flicking out and vanishing quickly—and a stray thought flickers through Connor's mind. 

Nines blinks, lifting his head to look at Connor. "That had… not occurred to me," he murmurs. "Would you like me to?" 

The idea is very, very arousing. 

"Alright," Nines says. He lets go of Connor's dick, pulling himself backwards before he sets his hands on Connor's hips from under his legs. The fae leans down, and then his tongue—long, black, forked at the tip—darts out to lick a stripe up Connor's dick.

Connor gives a soft gasp, tensing. Nines rubs his thumbs across his hips. "Relax, Connor," he murmurs. "Try to stay still, will you?" He asks, grinning, revealing his pointed teeth.

Oh, right.  _ Right— _ a wetness envelops his cock, and any thoughts he had are immediately torn away as Nines curls his tongue around him. "Oh,  _ fuck,"  _ Connor whispers. It's all he can do not to buck into Nines's throat, but that'd probably spell trouble for him. 

He locks eyes with Nines. The fae is watching,  _ studying _ him with an intense look in his eyes, pupils razor-thin, as his head bobs up and down, tongue visible where it wraps around Connor's cock. It makes Connor shiver, even as he's already shaking from the pleasure. 

Nines hums, and the vibration makes Connor gasp, and then moan when Nines presses down, all the way down. Connor is both surprised and not, that he doesn't seem to have a gag reflex, and it's good that he seems prepared when Connor can't help but jerk his hips up slightly, hands flying to—to wrap around the base of Nines's antlers. 

They both freeze for a moment. And then,  _ you can hold them,  _ before Nines swallows and  _ sucks,  _ and Connor lets out a choked gasp, squeezing Nines's antlers tightly. Nines gives a pleased hum, the sound muffled from his position, and Connor can feel the gentle scrape of dangerous points against him as he jerks up. 

Instead of putting him off, though, the sensation only makes him  _ ache  _ even more. "Nines," Connor whines, nearly. He starts weakly pulling at Nines's antlers to grind against that wet heat in jerky, half-aborted motions. Nines's grip on Connor's hips tightens, nails pressing into his soft flesh, and he moves with Connor's motions—careful, it seems, to keep his teeth away. 

Nines swallows again, muscles shifting to squeeze Connor's length, and Connor is suddenly pulled over the edge, spilling into Nines's throat with a choked cry. The fae looks surprised, some of Connor's cum dripping down his chin, but he just blinks and swallows again before licking Connor's softening dick clean. He sits up, letting Connor's hands slide free. His tongue flicks out to catch the rest of the cum before wiping at his mouth with his palm. If he hadn't just come, Connor thinks he could have at the sight. 

"Interesting," Nines murmurs, completely composed, like he hasn't given Connor the best blowjob in his life.

Nevermind that it’s been the only blowjob in Connor's life so far.

He vaguely wonders if that energy transference thing happens with oral sex, too. He feels suddenly very tired, but not as tired as when he, well,  _ actually  _ fucked Nines. 

"Yes," Nines answers. "Not as much, but yes. If you wish to stop here, we can."

But Connor can see Nines's dick standing tall, glistening with slick, and there's no way he's leaving Nines like that. "No," Connor mumbles. "Fuck me, please." 

Nines leans down to press a kiss to the inside of Connor's thigh. "As you wish." Connor remains pliant as Nines lifts up his legs then, pushing them up and to the side to expose Connor's ass to the air. 

The fae lifts one hand away from Connor's leg to stroke his own dick. His hand comes away glistening with slick, and then he's sliding a finger up to Connor's entrance, slipping it inside.

Connor hums, eyes slipping shut. It's still weird to feel something in him, even eased by the warm wetness on Nines's fingers. He does his best to breathe, trying to relax. 

"Alright, Connor?" Nines's voice is gentle, and he rubs his thumb soothingly on Connor's thigh. 

"Mhm," is all Connor manages. 

Nines adds another finger, slowly scissoring him open. Then another. And then Connor is empty, clenching around nothing, and he opens his eyes to see Nines lining himself up, hands on Connor's hips, Connor's legs spread wide on either side. Nines holds his gaze as he lifts Connor's hips and starts pressing in—Connor grits his teeth, breathing out shakily, until he can't hold the gaze anymore. His eyes fall shut as his flesh parts for Nines's length, the cock sliding in easily with whatever slick Nines has. 

Connor's breath comes out labored. At least he remembered to breathe this time, and he's a little proud of it, given how occupied his brain is with being so  _ full.  _ He's already half hard again, despite the tiredness sapping at his limbs. 

Eventually, Nines's hips meet Connor's, and the fae lets out a soft sigh, thumbing Connor's hips. Connor cracks his eyes open to see Nines watching him with his eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, wings spread wide behind him. And then the fae starts moving—slowly, at first, sliding out and in, the drag of his cock slow inside Connor. 

Connor makes quiet little "hm, mn, ah"-s as Nines's thrusts pick up in speed, as the fae's breath becomes audibly harsher. He's broken out of his haze of pleasure when Nines pulls out completely, though—and then he turns Connor over, hiking his hips up, before entering him from behind. 

The change in position must have let Nines hit his prostate, because a spark of hot pleasure shoots through his entire body, and he arches his back, jaw falling open where his face is pressed against the pillows. Nines pulls back and thrusts in again quickly, pulling an audible, "Ha-ahh," from Connor, this time. 

And he does again, and again, and Connor's mind is going almost numb from the pleasure. He can feel a wetness on the pillows around his eyes and around his mouth as he gasps and moans, and some part of his brain notes that he must be crying and drooling all over the place, but he can't bring himself to care. 

He can hear Nines's labored breaths, the squelch every time he hits deep, the bed creaking from the force of his thrusts. And then Nines's grip tightens on Connor's waist, his rhythm growing erratic. "Connor," he says roughly.  _ "Connor." _

"Yes, yes," Connor chokes out.

Nines buries himself deep, and Connor braces himself for—the sensation that can only be described as  _ intense,  _ burning, freezing, exhilarating, ravaging his mind and body, coupling with his own orgasm as he comes untouched onto his bedsheets. 

It's only when Nines shifts his grip that Connor realizes he's still conscious somehow, barely. Thoughts are all over the place, and he's shaking like a leaf, held up only by Nines's grip. Every nerve feels alight, buzzing with something, too much. The fae starts pulling out, but the words spill unbidden from Connor's mouth."S-ssstay. Ca-can you. Ss. Stay? In-in-inside."

Nines doesn't move for a moment. And then, "Alright," a quiet whisper. 

As the last threads of Connor's consciousness spin out into oblivion, he feels himself maneuvered to his side. He feels Nines wraps arms and legs and even wings around him. A kiss on his hair. He feels gentle touches, Nines deep inside him, deeply connected, pressing his lips to the mark, safe, safe, comfortable. 

He lets himself fall into nothingness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know that it's called "swaddling" when you sleep in the midst of penetration
> 
> the best part of them having sex in the afternoon is that I can draw pretty lighting tbh  
> Art is posted on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/Au_spice/status/1295074532558946304?s=20)!


	9. Belonging (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor feels closer than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2411

When Connor awakens, it feels like gradually rising from the bottom of a lake until he finally breaks the surface, water sliding from his face like the tendrils of sleep slipping away. Still floating on the surface of unconsciousness. 

It's dark, mostly. Nighttime. The only light is coming from behind him, the faint blue glow of Nines's wings from underneath the blankets pulled over them. 

Nines's arms are around his waist, and he can feel a steady breath tickling at the back of his neck, along with the gentle pressure of the fae's lips. Is Nines asleep again? 

Their bodies are pulled flush together, still naked, and when Connor shifts and feels something inside him—he's sure his entire face and body flushes, and his dick even twitches in interest. Right. He asked Nines to stay inside. And he  _ did.  _ The mere thought is enough to make Connor feel warm, and not just in arousal. He feels so  _ close.  _ He thinks Nines might still be hard in him, and isn't  _ that _ a thought? And if Nines never pulled out of him, does that mean his cum is still inside? 

He's never felt more owned. And the thought is—comforting. And  _ really _ arousing.

Nines's grip shifts slightly as Connor moves. "You're awake," he murmurs. Not asleep, then. 

"You stayed," Connor mumbles. "The whole time? How long has it been?"

Nines presses a kiss to Connor's hair. "Approximately five hours. It is 7:32 PM." And then he shifts slightly, gently dragging teeth down Connor's neck to tease at the mark. Connor can't help the voiceless sigh that escapes him as he tilts his head away to expose his neck even more. "I must say, I enjoy this position very much. Though the temptation to take you while unconscious was remarkably tempting."

"Why didn't you?" 

Nines stills. 

"You can if you want. Were you awake the whole time?" 

"No," Nines answers. "I was not. I woke three hours ago. And if I released in you again, you would have been unconscious even longer. Still, I suppose that is something to consider…"

Connor swallows. "Oh. I…" He turns his head back, and the movement pulls at the way they're connected—Connor takes a shaky breath, eyes falling shut, before opening them to meet Nines's eyes. "I still don't mind, as long as you don't knock me out for  _ too  _ long."

The fae raises an eyebrow and then lifts his head up to kiss Connor gently, drawing a quiet sigh from him. Nines pulls back after a moment before saying, "Noted. Now," his hand runs up Connor's thigh, "Would you like some help with your arousal? And then we can clean up and acquire some sustenance for you."

Connor flushes again before nodding—and then Nines's hand is on Connor's dick, stroking it to fullness. Connor groans, hips jerking into Nines's hand, only to gasp at the drag of Nines's cock still inside him. He instinctively grinds his hips back down, and then back forward, chasing the stimulation on both ends. 

Nines makes a quiet sound between a grunt and a sigh, his own hips moving slightly to meet Connor's movements. Connor can hear squelching from the sensual grinding—a mix of the slick and cum from earlier, maybe. 

The fae moves with efficiency, clearly trying to get Connor off as fast as possible. Soon enough, he accomplishes his goal—Connor comes underneath the sheets with a low moan. 

They lie there, breathing heavily for a moment. Nines shifts, and Connor realizes he's pulling out. "W-wait," he says, lifting a hand to grab at his hips, turning to look at Nines. "What about you?" 

Nines presses a kiss to his forehead. "I would prefer not to send you into unconsciousness again so quickly. Not to worry. I can manipulate my physiological state without too much difficulty."

But—that's not  _ fair _ . He tightens his grip. "Wh-what if you came on me? Instead of  _ in _ me." 

Nines blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Hm. Yes, I think that will be fine. I expect… yes. The transference will be significantly inhibited." And then he slides out, slowly dragging his cock from inside Connor with the wet sound of slick. 

Connor breathes out shakily—even once Nines is out, he feels so  _ stretched.  _ Sore. Which makes sense, since Nines was in him for hours. He thinks he can even feel fluids dripping out of him, and it makes his face burn. 

Nines pulls aside the blankets in a smooth motion, and then pushes on Connor's shoulders so he's lying on his back. The fae throws a leg over him, and then he's kneeling with Connor's legs between his. He reaches for his dick, glistening with slick and probably cum, but—Connor lifts his hands up, putting them on Nines's hips. "Can I?" he asks quietly. 

A pause, and then Nines nods, drawing his hands away. He moves forward a bit to make it easier for Connor to reach, and takes a slow breath once Connor wraps his around Nines's length. Connor's never paid close attention to it while he was in his fae form, but now that the dick is twitching in his hands, he observes how the flesh is slightly darker than the rest of his gray-blue skin. And also flushed with a deep blue hue—Connor wonders if that's the color of Nines's blood. 

"It is, yes," Nines breathes out. Connor glances up—the fae's face is slightly tinted blue. His eyes are half-lidded, watching Connor, and his mouth is slightly parted, pointed teeth visible between his lips. Connor hums, looking back down and running his hands up and down Nines's member, the slide made easy by the slick. Nines rocks into his touch, humming softly. A glance up informs him that the fae is still watching him, pale irises glowing in the dim lighting of the room, framed by the glow of his fluttering wings. Connor runs his thumb across the tip, and then the bed shakes as Nines slams his hands down on either side of Connor's head—and not a moment later, the fae is nosing at his neck. 

Connor's breath hitches, but he redoubles his efforts as Nines's pace increases, and then Nines is mouthing at his mark and Connor  _ squeezes— _

The fae comes with a heavy exhale, warm fluid spilling onto Connor's abdomen. Quite a bit, too—it feels almost like he's been coated with Nines's release by the time Nines is done. Connor works it all out of him. The fae then pushes himself up, dragging his lips up Connor's neck to press them against Connor's own lips, before straightening back to a kneeling position. 

Connor glances down to see Nines's cum splashed on himself—it looks like it's also a milky white, but maybe with a bluish tint. He pulls his hands away from Nines's softening dick, using one to drag a finger across the mess and bring it to his lips. It tastes sweet, surprisingly, but not sickeningly so. Sweeter than Nines's tears. It's actually… really good. 

Nines makes a soft sound as Connor moves his hand back to his belly, using two fingers to gather more of the cum before Connor dips his fingers into his mouth to clean it off and get more of that  _ taste.  _ Before he can go in for a third time, though, Nines grabs his wrist. 

_ "Connor,"  _ Nines says breathily. 

Connor blinks up at the fae. "What? It's really good…"

Nines closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. "It may affect you in a way that would be… inconvenient, at the moment. You need to eat. Real food, not my… release." 

Connor thinks about that for a moment. "You mean I can get high from your cum?"

"Yes. This much won't affect you considerably. You might feel a bit… stimulated. But if you have more, I fear it may leave you… susceptible." 

"Oh." Connor feels his face heat. That's a thought. He wonders what it'd be like to suck off Nines, then… 

Nines sighs. "Another time. Now let us clean up so you can eat." 

* * *

Magic is really, really convenient. Nines simply waves a hand, humming with pale light and power, and there's a cool wash of light over the room. Once it passes, all the stains are gone—both Nines and Connor's cum from just now have vanished into nothingness.

Though not the fluids still in him from last night. Connor's pretty sure Nines could have cleaned that, too, but instead the fae hesitantly suggests they take a shower together—and who would Connor be to refuse that? 

(A traitorous part of his brain thinks that Nines looked really cute when asking. He's never taken a shower before, but he saw it in Connor's memories—and he's curious.)

His shower is decently sized, but it's cramped with both of them plus Nines's wings. Which turn out to be waterproof, much like flower petals. Connor runs his hands across the black parts when Nines presses his chest to Connor's back, one arm around his chest, wings wrapped around them like a cocoon. Nines shivers, exhaling on Connor's shoulder before nipping at his mark—and thus making him go nearly limp in the fae's arms. 

Nines uses his other hand to press into his loose entrance, drawing out the cum and slick. Connor finds it hard to focus on anything, between the comfortable closeness of Nines pressed against him, the oddly safe feeling of Nines's wings curled around them, the warm shower water pattering against his skin, and the muted pleasure of Nines fingering his used hole. Not to mention that his legs feel like jelly, and he's starting to feel kind of… well, he supposes he'd describe it as buzzed. Is this what Nines meant about getting high off his cum? Hmm. 

Nines finishes after a bit, and then he takes a moment to look at the bottles on the rack under the faucet. Body wash and a 2-in-1 shampoo-conditioner. 

The fae slathers the body wash all over him, including his more private parts, and even casually lifts him up to get his feet. That done, he moves to clean Connor's hair, too. He does this all with a look of curiosity on his face, which Connor sees whenever he flops his head back to see for himself. 

Connor's not denying it anymore. He looks really cute like that. 

Nines blinks. "I am not cute." 

"No, you're very pretty. Sometimes you do things I think are cute though," Connor mumbles, turning his face to press a kiss to Nines's neck. 

Nines sighs, but doesn't bother denying it. 

Eventually, Nines finishes his ministrations and they just stand under the spray for a while, Connor completely wrapped up in the fae's embrace. "This is very nice," Nines murmurs. 

"Mhm," Connor responds. 

Nines nearly has to carry him out once Connor notes somewhere in his mind that they should probably be finishing up. The fae towels him off, hesitating at the hair. Connor takes the towel from his hands and aggressively dries his hair as best he can, burying his dripping hair in the fabric. Once he's done, Nines blinks at him and pushes his fingers through what Connor's sure is his mess of hair, drawing still-wet strands together. 

He sends a question, mentally, and Connor shrugs. So the fae uses his magic to pull the last of the water from him, drying himself off at the same time. Another moment, and there's the sensation of a cool, watery feeling over him again as both his and Nines's clothes form out of nothingness, perfectly clean and unruffled. 

It's Connor's pajamas, actually, which is really thoughtful. Come to think of it, does Nines sleep in the same thing all the time? 

"More or less," Nines answers with a chuckle. "Now, sustenance." 

Connor starts cooking without really thinking about it, but it's only when he meets Nines's eyes, the fae watching him with his head tilted, that Connor realizes it's the first time he's cooked properly since the incident. 

He starts crying, silently, and Nines's hands are on his arms in the blink of an eye.  _ Connor.  _

_ Nines? Am I… am I getting better?  _ He glances back at the stove—it can wait for a bit without getting burned, so he refocuses on Nines.  _ Am I healing?  _

_ Yes. Yes,  _ and Nines raises one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, slow, gentle.  _ I've got you. You're alright.  _

Something between a laugh and a sob forces itself out of Connor's throat. He wraps his arms around Nines's back, swaying gently, their foreheads pressed together. Connor hears the click of the stove being turned off, and then he's completely wrapped up in Nines's wings again. 

"Nines," Connor whispers, in their quiet cocoon, isolated from the rest of the world. "I love you." 

"I know," and Connor isn't sure whether he wants to burst out laughing or groan in indignation, but he doesn't get to do either before Nines pulls back, lifts up Connor's chin, and says, "I think I do as well." 

Then they're kissing again, wrapped up each other, swaying to the silent song of their singing hearts. 

* * *

Connor does manage to finish cooking on his own, though it's just about 9 PM when he finally eats. Nines looks like he wants to help, but Connor tells him not to—he wants to do this himself. For today, at least. 

They curl up on the couch afterwards, Connor writing with one hand and giving Nines scritches at the base of his antlers with the other. He's definitely feeling a little hyperactive, now, but at least it doesn't mess with his writing groove too much. Except how he keeps wanting to bounce his legs, but one has Nines and the other has his tablet. 

It's past 1 AM when they finally climb back into bed. Connor's a bit worried about falling asleep, after already having gotten five hours from being fucked in the afternoon and still buzzing with an energy that makes it hard to sit still. But that proves to be a non-issue when Nines kisses him softly on the forehead, and he immediately starts feeling the tension drain from him, sleepiness filling the gaps. 

In the hazy limbo of half-awareness, Connor thinks. He's not healed. Not fully. He doesn't know if he ever will be. But he's heal _ ing _ , and like this, with Nines—he's happy. 

He falls asleep curled up against Nines's chest, cocooned in his arms and wings and echoing contentment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of this part! Connor's doing better and the two of them are acknowledging their feelings :'D  
> The next part will be from Nines's POV ;3
> 
> Thank you again to [Ronnie Silverlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake) for beta reading! Or alpha reading, probably, given how much we discuss a whole bunch of stuff. 
> 
> And thank to everyone who commented or yelled at me in the New ERA server! It gives me life, hehe. 
> 
> Art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/01g0y8vrw12q).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Art relevant to the series can be found on [Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice/gallery?q=%23symaddbh) and [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/tagged/SYMAD).  
> I also have a Twitter thread [here](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice/status/1271614683527524353).
> 
> If you'd like to know when things will update, check out my posting schedule [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/14mF6Rm_CTutT-3XSqsCcDDv2vyKzEoc0RNywZlKxD3g/edit#gid=1114913519)!
> 
> Check me out on social media:  
> Deviantart: [Ausp-ice](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice)  
> Tumblr: [@ausp-ice](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/)  
> Instagram: [@ausp.icium](https://www.instagram.com/ausp.icium/)  
> Twitter: [Ausp_ice](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice) / NSFW: [Au_spice](https://twitter.com/Au_spice)
> 
> I'm also in [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) server! I have my own channel if you'd like to yell at me or just talk.


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